Psalm 36
song out of poverty
I would sing to you
But my throat is raw
I would give to the poor
Except that I am one
What may I do for you
When I have nothing to share?
Well, I am something, I guess
Even in the vacuum
Of offering
Something in my design
You liked in making me
And sustaining me thus far
I guess I do have
One more thing to give
The Good News in Straightening Up
I have cleaned
I have picked up
Washed things
Put things large and small
Away
Sun arrives, maybe only
Passing through
But I see blessing in the timing
Calm and peace are lit
For the time they’re here
I am sore
But inclined toward watching
Surfaces
Feeling energy and a little
Healing from the shine
(haiku) From the Back Yard
Cardinal on fence,
Momentary red still life,
Flies away—that’s good
Cold morning air, one
Bumble-bee under flower
Following its call
Rabbit’s tall long legs,
Wary, lope across the yard:
Mitigated zeal
Christ Is a Refuge
Christ is a refuge
He takes all the unwanted
He is home to countless
Without home
To the comfortable as well
Christ Was a Refugee
Christ was a refugee
In Egypt
We do not know if Mary
Or Joseph had family there
Nothing is said
We know they traveled
To escape persecution
To miss the massacre
An insane king
Had decreed at home
First of May
First of May
Ancient practices
Now with modern meaning
One of Saint Joseph’s days
This day for the worker
Come to celebration for
Soviet Christians
So that May Day, a state’s
Day of recognition in the USSR
Could be marked as a special
Day while religion was
Beneath the surface, and
The believer required a
Spiritual reason
Masks
We talk a lot about that here
Which is good, I think—it must
Be an important theme
I’m not sure why I was talking
Yesterday with my brother
About Guy Fawkes
It’s a strange holiday from my
American look—you know,
“Remember the fifth of
November and such”—but
Then, I have “the eighteenth
Of April, in Seventy-five;/
Hardly a man is now alive”
(hardly)
Remembering, as we should,
That Revere had help from
Other riders, a man and a
Young woman
There—I’ve forgotten about
Masks, like the one on Guy
Fawkes (used in V is for
Vendetta), a definition of
Wry, sardonic looks broadcast
Throughout the realm
Carnivals (pick a nation) wear
Masks, as do some super-
Heroes and, well, bank
Robbers, too
Celebration (okay, maybe
Criminality), impression,
Second plastic skin, the
Need to turn away
But I think we mean the
Masks that hide our feelings,
Even our deeper thoughts—
Things that need concealment
And from which we fear
Exposure
Do you know who I am? a
Twenty-first century search
Finds sad response: a number
Of YouTubes (Do you know
Who I am? I’m entitled to
Road rage),
Well-known persons in the
Mind, at least, who have
Declared this in a gross
Way—and a book for women
(And, who knows, the book
Might be good)
But for the earnest question,
We don’t perceive the block,
Which is, we cannot ask
The question:
Masks inhibit the seeing of
Another and the hearing of
Oneself
It’s really a question that
Has beauty; now it needs
Strength
To ask and, on the way, taking
Down—relenting—of our
Masks, souls in disguise
Walpurgisnacht
(30 April)
Eve of a saint’s day and
Something to do with
Witches and with German
Witches, I imagine—the
Good kind of witch, I’m
Sure
Not Charmed witches,
‘Cause they were silly
(After three seasons,
Anyway) nor the crones
With noses whose hooks
Could hold pots, so badly
Were they drawn
Maybe that’s why,
Starting at dawn, the
Television plays episodes
Of (so-called) real
Mysteries
Because tonight good
Witches are dancing in
Dark bulls’-eyed circled
Places with what light
They might extract from
The sentinel moon
Under which their sinews
Slide in pace to music
Unheard
Beseeching sky and earth
And fire with water held
In fashioned vessels
To love the world and
Give their healing magic
Potency to break feverish
Ills that make corrupting
Sickness of what men
Catch and spread when
Dealing in the day
(see?)
Zed
The last English letter,
The last song, the final
Form
Evidently, the British
Like to say this letter
As a word, while
Other English speakers
Simply say zee
As I think through
My own alphabet
(More or less in order),
It seems most words
For letters are more
Or less the letter
Sounds,
Though double-u
Describes what it is
(In Spanish, double-v)—
And the eighth-letter
Name might be
Overwrought, long A
Followed by a soft chuh,
Ache with the K
Sound substituted
I like calligraphy,
Illumined text in Latin
Or another word—I’m
Sure I’d have no
Patience for the work,
Though I love the
Results
Would love to have a
Large single letter,
As if monk-made,
Framed, shining to
Illumine me
Which letter, I don’t
Know—I’ve twenty-
Six letters in my tongue
(On my tongue) from
Which to choose
What letters might light
Up my mind and what
Ones for you
CLC
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
Blogging from A to Zed Challenge
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