With pedal assist and a throttle,
the hills sit lower and shorter.
I ride farther and bolder than I ever did.
Through the workhouse of the world
I visually dance, and the air parts
as I pass, not as gauntlet but
honor guard in a Tour de France.
he crack of dawn is a dark rinse,
humidity descending, night lifting,
bird band rattling while the lead sings
a long note and the counterpoint chirps
witchy witchy witchy witchy witchy
Make wallpaper of your greatest losses,
the smallest saved to decoupage
a Pandora-proof box
Sew a quilt from a sundress
tattered at the hem like a failed affair
or the first pair of shorts you ever bled through
Because of,
or perhaps despite
my whisperings,
the African violet thrives.
When I woke this morning,
Continue reading… "To the Light"The large shadow sets off the pallor of his face,
his death the dark companion on his pillow.
Can he have been this beautiful?
Curls clinging to his forehead, the sensuous mouth, straight nose
under his high brow, lashes against his cheek?
I kneel among gilded Virgins and kindly Josephs
ready to receive the body of Christ.
A flat white circle sucks moisture from my mouth,
tongue probes for Jesus in the scraps
of wafer sticking to my palate.
lack of a plan felt like reason enough
to follow half-truths as if they were favors
sandwiches assembled on a plywood scrap
by whoever sat in the passenger seat
In my primary-colored garden
of yeladim where we crayola’d
stick-people portraits of Judah Maccabee
and his muscled bros, Moses crossing
the Sea of Reeds, or Jonah cowering
in the belly of a lumpy, grinning whale,
every Bible story seemed to share
The South Shore Train leaves in the morning.
One night to bear the dorm’s unnatural silence.
This first real snowfall of the season builds slowly.
Outlines etched on bare trees.
You’ve told your first almost real love goodbye.
Nothing’s bound to change. The sky begins to drop.
1
All afternoon doing nothing, the jade plant and I.
Don’t say we’re wasting our lives.
Seventeen crows have crossed the window: one trailing a silver
ribbon clenched in a fist.
One with a pane of grey sky where a wingfeather was.
Continue reading… "Meditations"