On the Day of the Passing of Dr. David Lumsdaine

Why not today?

A day I felt particularly alive, going outside
in steady cold rain.
Wearing red and smiling, opening my hands,
tilting my face, blinded, whipped
by wind.
Feeling water soak up through the cracks
in the soles of my boots.

We should always pray and not give up.

Why?

Were vigils not enough? Or were we led into your heart a little
yesterday, among the monotypes -
gently led to stillness long enough
to hear your yes through the no of this day?

Death is always irony. And there is something inside of me
that is loosened like a bird,
that is sharpened,
awake.

I will not give up. I will pray.

Why not today?





Luke 18:1 "Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up." 
(Shared with me by Dr. Lumsdaine fall '12).

Four Weeks Without Eucharist

you peeled your skin off slowly in front of me
there where we burned our feet in the snow.

you tell me i will write poems about myself
but i will not.

i could write your crucifixion
on the back of my hand.    the stairwell
    your firm shoulder
your close breath        leaves as you are

like steam     like rust and green and
avocado eyes. your burning almond eyes
your thick sap     your eyes two sunken canoes
i drowned in.

there is
your skin on my tongue.

No One is Enough

How like feathers
 like the slow growth of hair

I have seen nothing
today.
  have not been
silent.

There is nothing but to fear God and keep his commands.








"Now all has been heard; 
here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep his commandments,
for this is the whole duty of man."

-Ecclesiastes 11:13 NIV

A Song

Why am I so
unconscionably happy?

There must have been
something in the wine,
something in the water,
something in the host -

There must have been something in the wine
something in my soul.

You were only waiting,
waiting for me to turn.

Oh, and I will turn my head
and I will turn my heart
and I will turn my hands
and I will tune my tongue -

You were only waiting,
waiting for me to turn.

An Improbability of Gnus

It was like you,
sending ducks
and telling me to sweep glass
into a dustpan
in the melted snow on the
sidewalk.

It would be nice to be
something besides that part of society
that plays stiff and proper and
clean and
blind.
I want to look inside,
feel my eyebrows like two wounds forming,
to understand what love looks like without words
or from a wheelchair.

Please become impossible so that I can trust you
from the corner of the gallery,
from the rusty chair in the snow,
from the swing,
from the desk at night.




Quote: Nina Cassian: "Ordeal," translated from the Russian by Impey and Swann

Four Minutes

I don't know how
in four minutes,
I will write anything
worth two peas.

Permanent

did I not
see eyes
in the shrubbery -
?

Goosefeathers.


baby MOUTH puckered
you are TERRIBLE
and I love you.

your thick earlobes
and raisin cake mouth.
Your toes like
ten peas.