Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Pagan Wisdom from the Bible Belt

With voice heavy in the sultry air
Or clear in the cooling crisp
Gods and goddesses speak,
As is their nature,
Through stars, signs, and seasons
Barely heard in the disintegration of a meteorite
Or fall of a leaf,
And so easily eclipsed
By digital billboards.

Our longest day is brief
The shortest briefer.
Live each moment expecting to hear
The voice of an immortal
Lengthening your soul
With at least a brief glimpse of eternity.

By a pagan Christian who cannot deny the existence of other gods and who loves Jesus Christ because he departed unto a mountain to pray (and because he took to his grave the bloody sacrifices).

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Mother on Notebook Paper

Who is this a picture of?
This hollow soul is me.
There's room for God
And room for love,
But grief has hallowed out the eyes
The ghosts to see,
And tea too strong, philosophy,
has sallowed me this way.
How can it be?  Who sees me thus?
On fallow field of notebook paper grew a mother,
Some secrets can't be kept.
He said, "I was just doodling,
And it ended up like you."

Thursday, June 12, 2014

The Heaviness of Thirteen

Four haiku on the heaviness of thirteen:

Superstitious weight
Convenes Friday with full moon
A witches’ coven

Atomic number
Of most abundant metal

Amendment Thirteen
Abolished the slavery
After civil war

Thirteen is heavy 
Another hole but more glaze
A baker’s dozen

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

The Quiet of the Morning

The first few steps pounded out on the pavement
Are miserably hard on the soles of my feet
And I ache all the way to the top of my head
And I feel like a jackhammer not a jogger
With legs as heavy as heavy machinery
And breathing loud as a logging truck
Belching out carbon monoxide.

I intrude upon the quiet of the morning.

Then the road is softened by one fluffy cottontail,
Her nose twitching with curiosity
Until she exits into the wayside brambles
Where dewberries abound and one is found
Sweet and tart on my tongue.

And a squirrel follows along in the canopy
Forming an overpass over my path
And becomes a distraction from the ache
Working its way out of my body.

And clearing the nettles in the meadow’s fast lane
A deer pronks and shows his own mettle
And I show mine as my legs are lightened.

And my breathing at first obtrusive
Intertwines with the breathing trees
And my soul sings with songbirds
And my sweat distills as dew on wild roses.

I am the quiet of the morning.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Where the Last Tree Fell

Where the last tree fell
The tree of life grows,
A fractalization of the last tree’s essence,
Intelligence and immortality.
From seed so small
The cosmic tree expands,
Sending roots into black holes
And branches to the infinite heavens.
How can such a tree be guarded,
When everywhere I see
Songbirds, raptors, vultures
Perched among its leaves?

Personality Test

Which would you rather drink?
Cool, clear water
Or primordial soup?
Which would you rather think?
Cool, clear water
Or primordial soup?
Into which would you rather sink?
Cool, clear water
Or primordial soup?
Of what would you rather stink?
Cool, clear water
Or primordial soup?

Depending on how you answer you may be:
A - An ecoterrorist who doesn’t use bleach or soap products.
B – Born to be a deep thinker.
C – Catfish noodling next Saturday
D – Damn if I know and neither does your shrink. 

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Musical Fallout Shelter

Music is fallout
That wrenches the soul
From the moment
To post traumatic,
Collecting memories
And compounding them,
Succussing to potency
The dissipating waves
Along the stress disordered shore.

Music is shelter
That protects the soul 
From its storms,
Two eyes keeping watch – 
The window of the soul
And the eye of the storm –
Envisioning shapes in the air
Only our ears can see
Of a postcard perfect shore.