Thursday, December 23, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
The glory of an ivy-clad blood-brick profession?
The romance of a life that doesn't exist, that has never existed, not for anyone?
(See, a horizon was never something you can approach and straddle)
Let these dreams die hard as a triple-armored warrior
For how could I forget the children of my mind?
They have danced and sung and I have watched them grow,
in the terrifying pallor of the doomed young.
My kids and I never spoke the word among ourselves, never once;
I glanced askance of truth and simpered little false sentiments to them instead:
"I love; I will make you grow; you will make me alive."
I laid in love with the love and art and beauty and industry of this age,
and these offspring were born for a sickeningly insignificant death
not even punctuated
Like an afternoon comment from a teenage girl to a friend's wall:)
Surely someone could pull out a hankerchief and set up an exclamation point as a memorial pillar--
but no, the children of mine simply whimpered and fell silent,
and I never explained to them why it had to be.
One year I was to be someone, to have someone,
to make something with my hands that dazzled,
mature, supple grown versions of my children-dreams.
The next year I doubted; they were pale even in sunlight.
The next year they began to cough, and there was blood.
Then they were gone.
My heart, in shock, is beginning to understand--
I will sit behind this desk for forty years, married to an accountant from the south.
This, I know,
this is how one forgets the ambition of one's youth.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
I found a man named Luxury
And climbed up on his lap, to see
what answers to The Question he
might have for Generation Me
For Generation Y
For generation Why, and How
For generation Do Me Now
We push the cart and pull the plow
We swear our freedom, and we bow
to painted porcelain kings
I found a King named Microsoft
Queens Google, Lexus, Davidoff
With smarter car, and higher loft
So while our minds grow Downy-soft
Our speech grows cheap... not free
Give us this day our low-carb bread
And do to us as Oprah said
Sell pills for demons in our head
And guides for books our fathers read
for roads our fathers walked
We'll savor loose philosophy
In coffeeshops where we drink tea
We're coffee-shopping for the key
to holes in Dad's theology
And maybe to his heart
So give us now our daily cleanse
And pierce us with Palm Pilot pens
Tell us our stories through a lens
Design a logo for our sins
And sell them to us cheap
One day we'll notice that we're old
we'll notice that our kids are cold,
Our marriages are green with mold
But as for now--no need to scold
History must repeat
Saturday, January 30, 2010
And across the abyss of questions and terrors
I would reach
I would steal you, lover
I would stand with you on rock
Do you recall, my lover, in happier days--
when we stood in the gushing sun
on a mountainous stone?
And watched the birds panic
to escape the waves
Do you remember the way my eyes looked
bathed in the joy of baby love?
I remember yours
And I remember the sense of assurance's hole
left in its absence
So big that it ate up the cotton in the sky
and the life beneath our feet
We are not on a rock now
I believe I have found one for standing
but you are not here
my arms won't stretch across the great abyss
I only can sing
And hope that you know me by my song
I stood on top of people
and I said that they were You
I clung and pushed and painted
in a spiritual hue
I beat my pillow, wailing
that you'd driven me insane
And closed my eyes to all except
the haunting of my pain
When something gave me joy, my God!
I worshipped it as You
And pelted onward, heedless
of the great uncertain blue
of the fear of sober judgement
of the demons that I grew
of the Great Uncertain Blue
of the Great Uncertain Blue
The day I knew that I believed
it was not on the word of a sage or a holy woman
nor was it sermon spoke or verse quoted
it was a tree that stood yelling in my backyard
it was the eye, half closed, of a tiny girl child
it was that when I fell to the floor and wailed a million losses,
my father knelt beside me and held my back.
in the last moment-- it was that I cannot ever see a horizon
without longing seeping out from under my eyelids and leaping towards it
the day I knew that I believed took five years
and was over
And now I am His.