Faure’s Pavane

June 30, 2015

Strings are plucked softly

I turn the music up

the contrasts thrill

the tune haunts

the prayers pour forth

from some guttural place

primal as a bear snort

the car rocks with sound

It starts to levitate

as I lay my head on the steering wheel

weep for all of us

Unnatural Theology

June 14, 2015

With all due respect, Mr. Aquinas, Sir..

I believe in unnatural theology.

The miracle of birds

a baby’s chubby thigh

the surprise letter

the phone call at the right time.

I believe in a natural world and order

designed by an unnatural God

who is anything but ordinary

where gravity turns upside down

mustard seeds start revolutions

stars fall from the sky

while Cicadas hum.

I believe in defying gravity

escaping ecosystems

presestined encounters

the flight of horses

the pixie and the lamb

i believe in miracles, Thomas, I love you and I must.

Maslow and Esther

June 12, 2015

Maslow had it right

but so did Queen Esther

I prefer the Queen’s approach

and will always–dammit–

live a life of faith

no matter how grim things look.

thank you Queen

I am One too.

If you came to my house

You’d see my spinning wheel

my bike parked in the den

my piano

If you came to my house

I’d fix you a meal

We’d sit on the back porch and hear the Whippoorwill

If you came to my house

we could knit and talk and drink whiskey and coke

I’d show you my art

we could share ideas

I’d love for you to come to my house

I’d love to be your host

It’s a joke, he laughs.

hides behind sunglasses

cleaner in hand

not like a piano tuner

or player

Listening

instead, he feels the smudge

intuitively knows the pane

each speck washed clean

i come home to sparkling windows

He calls me later

says he likes my voice.

i never know–until he tells me,

the window washer is blind.

Disturb the Peace

June 7, 2015

Complacency masks as peace

disturb it!

rage, rage against apathy

Willful, blind, content

shake things up!

be a revolutionary.

Hospice

June 5, 2015

I stroke the man’s forehead.

he visibly relaxes

and dies the next day

in his Geri chair in the nursing home hallway

I carry on a conversation

which makes no sense

while the woman with Altzeimers clings to me

grasping for attention

someone to listen to her babble

she smiles brightly

not in the end stages

‘failure to thrive’ is the hardest

i can relate, as I sit beside the bed of the silent one

actively dying

I like this work

it suits me fine

I lie on my side in the bed

turn towards the generous window

open to the cool night

and stare.

the moon is an imperfect circle

her light filters through the screen

plays on my arm

deep in the deciduous woods

the whippoorwill sings

comforts creatures without

and within

all night long

brilliant triplets pierce the air

I wake in intervals

To her tenacious song

we are rhythmic together

in breath and pause

stubborn music

while the moon looks on.