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Favorites Poetry

Pin cushion

Okay, so, my face is full of little pins and needles

That I stick there when I’m not using them.

They don’t bother me, and I just keep sticking

As I sit, hemming endless lengths of fraying fabric.

Suddenly, there comes a wave, a sudden freezing of my face,

Prickling at a million nerve endings, throbbing with defeat.

Enough, enough! There are far too many, though I never thought I’d see the day;

There are too many, and I clutch at the needles that fill my skin.

I rip them out, wailing piteously, spewing convoluted complaints

Concerning everything, save for what ails me.

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Favorites Poetry

Tongue-tired

I’ve filled myself in the wrong way,

Like a failed crossword puzzle –

Let me start over.

Tell me, why should I care about should?

And why would I care about would?

I honestly don’t, and never did –

Maybe I, perhaps with some prompting,

Have just convinced myself that I do.


Can I retire from language and from sight?

I’d like to just be again.

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Favorites Poetry

Drawn curtains

Close the drapes, quickly.

There, between the trees,

Are wraiths that know far too much

From ages of haunts and plots.

So, shut out the light,

And in doing so,

The darkness with it.

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Favorites Poetry

Ski lift

Up high above the slopes, dangling from a single cable,

I realize with shock that, if clamps failed and chair crashed,

If someone was with me, I’d take comfort in the fact

That at least it would make two of us.

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Favorites Poetry

Departure

Behind glass – diamonds, rubies and aquamarine

Blare against black velvet and fall away from me.

Suspended in the atmosphere, I am only seen

As a fading, blinking light amongst a host of stars.

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Favorites Poetry

Open plans

Sanity, that necessity that feels like a lie,

Its neat suit and tie all pressed and crisp

Like some plaster wall in a new kitchen.

It’s no good…! I like open plans,

And this solidity stifles and muffles me.

Obliterate the barrier, and take life back

From cold schedule and confused focus.

But now that the concrete disintegrates,

The abstract has no form to inhabit and dies with it.

Spirit sinks restlessly and without solace

And even if the truth stands before me, it can no longer be grasped.

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Favorites Poetry

Shoes on floors, indoors

I tend to keep my shoes on –

And goodness knows what for.

It appears as though I’ll soon go out

Or have just come through the door.

No – I’ve been inside for hours

And haven’t gone to any places;

I’m just lazy and don’t particularly care

To go untie my laces.

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Favorites Poetry

Story Boards

I would like to know why people paint over pine,

And conceal the grains of growth that betray

The time at which a trunk was split, at what angle it was severed,

Forming ellipses where limbs were once born – the wombs from whence they grew.

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Favorites Poetry

…with a what now?

My teacher told me to draw with a twig –

And so, I shall write with my nose;

Paint with my eyelashes,

Sing with my ears,

And read with the tips of my toes.

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Favorites Poetry

Victory’s Lament

In the shadow of Mount Sinai I was born

Into a city that I had called my own, even when I had lost memory of it.

I had sought out its beauties, unrivaled in sea or on land and

Learned to love it for its brusqueness and elegance so crowded together, then beyond separation.

Are you happy now? That heads are rolling in the street, that the fat now have more to eat, that God’s places are filled with satanic doctrine, that anyone do any deed he pleases?

You didn’t say you wanted utter destruction, but you did – and you hated me, didn’t you? I sensed you would murder me, with long knife slashes gushing pools of blood if earthly consequences could be dammed.

Even God’s wrath is held back for a time – it is only by his grace that both the righteous and the evil have not been struck dead. I am struck with grief, that you take the sign of God’s mercy for pride, that you seek to dismantle every good thing that comes from above, wearing the raw skins of newborn lambs to do so.

He has already won the war – you will endlessly writhe in agony, for you have forever rejected your one salvation. You shall never touch the splendor of God, even when you have torn down the holiest of temples and the finest masterpieces from the hands and mouths of God’s messengers. For even now, my grief is only temporary at this marring of man’s creation, and therefore God’s – but you shall never snatch me from my Shepherd’s hand; my Lover’s arm; you shall never silence my Helper’s voice, the eternal Word that has ordained all that is, and therefore me. What has been paid has been paid from eternity to eternity, and my soul is forever bathed in my Redeemer’s blood; no matter how much blood is taken from me, His blood has made me pure and I am his friend.

You are not satisfied (for you, true happiness is forever an impossibility), and will never be; the day of salvation is at hand; the Lamb’s wedding is nigh; and no scheme nor construction will have it delayed. Out goes you, to the scalding pit, whose residents shall never again know God’s grace that he so lovingly bestows on all who still live.

And so in sorrow and quivering anger I say all that I can utter. This is not undue, yet what is to come cannot be undone. Though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, He is before and behind me, I am hedged in on either side in love, and He has borne it all for that which is set before Him:

Joy that will never know its end.