I do not enjoy
Seeing your house without light
The fire takes too much
after friends’ house fire (haiku)
Planet Minerva
Except for Earth and
Uranus (a Greek divinity,
Parenting gods as well),*
We name
Our planets for gods of
Rome, perhaps stabilizing
Legacies
X, Y, Z—Planet X (not
Roman ten, since Pluto’s
Demotion) might need a
Name
If (say it “Iks”) Ix won’t
Work for (new) planet
Number nine,
I recommend Minerva,
Imposing wisdom on
Our solar notion that we
Are done meeting our
Planets
(*finished here or read
the note below
And on a profound-less
Note, if Uranus,
Pronounced either way,
Still leaves the
Audience dying, then
We could take the
Roman form for that
And call it Caelus or
Coelus, more sonorous
In transliteration)
Feats of Clay
I know he was no longer
Clay once he became Ali
I could not resist the pun;
And if you don’t recall,
If you never knew, he
Was a funny guy (funny
As the word “guy”)
Humor charged his
Boasts—reality charged
The rest that really
Mattered
He was the greatest:
Neither the floating
Butterfly nor the stinging
Bee would disagree—nor
Would opponents, once
Rested and articulate
Again
I heard athletic adversaries
Talking throughout the
Day
I also, years ago, watched
His performance in a
Television-movie: he
Played a humble man
Wanting to improve
Himself against the odds
No surprise, his character
Was convincing
In life, he proved his wider
Claims; he showed that
Black boxing can hit
History
I don’t like boxing, but I like
What he did
I like how he believed
Older than my siblings (I
Am in the middle), three
Of us from the same town,
Famous for other matters—
Horserace and the classic
Baseball bat
I’ll take him first for our
Shared city
And what he made there
Victory and better days
Weathering
Storms, fire
Firestorms
That’s in California
Floods, tornadoes
Water-sheets
And other means
Of rain to strike
At us
Texas and in Florida
Where sand is
Bagged by convict
Volunteers—on
North through
Eastern USA
River-rise in Paris
Art treasures
Moved toward
More-protected
Ground
Certain seasons
Start all over (as
In again and
Everywhere)
In nature’s timing
And all storms’
Discretion
Selfishly, I am
Well above brick
Walkways and
Macadam streets
I have electric
In safe measure—
Mostly, though
Not always:
A tree smashed
Into the house
Not so long ago
A favorite book,
The Mighty Acts
Of God, a
Faithful book
Nature is God’s,
And the Christian
Claim is God is
Love
So what is the
Love here? It
Id that God loves
Us and leaves
Us the means—even
In, and as, a fallen
World
Our part to start
Redress is to resolve
To do so
That’s it: resolve
(The rest follows)
Scribbling Sensations
When I turn other things off,
I hear the air-conditioner hum with tiny teeth
I hear assurance from the fan beside my bed
I see the vertical textures in the lampshade of
The lamp that doesn’t work
I see a hat, purchased for walking, set cockeyed upon
The corner of a vintage-mirror frame
I feel soft touches as I type;
I hear the tapping of the keys upon the board,
Like Poe’s raven upon my chamber door
While my nose is in it, I smell and taste the coffee,
Hot enough for its vapor mildly to campaign
With warmth through my sinuses
I feel pain—more intense without distraction
I blink: I cannot hear it, though I know the upper lid
Has fallen on the lower (which will give a little)
and will rise and fall again
While other things are off,
I sense the world anew;
And, largely—like Genesis and Weldon Johnson’s
Work—I think it’s good
Sunset Ramadan
(5 June 2016)
I have memories
Of a Ramadan, a
Rosh Hashanah, too
I like the Christian
Holidays, but others
From these faiths
Invited me
To ritual and cuisine
And, best of all,
Community
Love permeates
Actions when they
Are in spirit
Inch’Allah
And our God is
Pleased when we
Are one
Shalom
Harambe
Hold anger around
Visit with the silverbacks
To promise mourning
Sanctuary
Because one is still
Does not mean that one is safe—
Life in one cell is open to
Mutation, loss of parts, disease;
Life within a prison cell
Suffers from same dangers
In detention and in
Isolation
(Even with others in proximity),
Under death-order and maybe death-
Watch;
How,
Fixed under a demon’s yoke
Whose cause is politics,
Who for an idea
Has been taken out
Of actual existence?
Toward the Southern Pole
(Closer than most of us will
Get), there is a Russian Orthodox
Church—
Ten bodies with ten souls within
May worship;
The rest know that the church is
There:
Triptychs of spirit and of hope
Inside
At the end of the world,
Where there is likelihood
Of living through oppression
Wrought by nature or assignment.
What sanctuary in the prison cell,
Where trapped mind and abandoned
Spirit are closed maybe for a
Final time,
Where fear
The only inner company?
Andy awaits
Release of one kind or
Another.
http://www.ekklesia.co.uk/node/23100
Kidnapped Briton spends 700th day in illegal detention
A British man who is held under sentence of death in Ethiopia has spent his 700th day in unlawful detention, after he was kidnapped and rendered to the country by Ethiopian forces in 2014.
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