the ribcage pierced to bring us out.
Your hands removed a piece entire by
hand. Your will embraced the man's
solitude comparing him to animals'
ways. Your Person formed the en-
trance of lives begun from one,
then One, pierced through one
beginning Eve named, not h
erself, welcome evident fr
om Your deliberate form
-ing her, from him, from
Him enclosing generations through Y
our willingness to be formed by Your
hands. Evening feels
the walk of waking
company two our
pair loved, lovin
g daylight's re-
cover y, en-
for once led
into a greater
land, we walked
more foot warn, till
God lorn minds deman-
ded a sorrowing forgetting
Your forming of Eve, named by
Adam blessed. Eve of Eve by Adam
loved, once upon awaking. Beloved Christ,
Your form encloses me, I trust to wake with Thee.
i cannot, will not praise a woman without the man, the Son of Man, called Redeemer,
Kinsmen Redeemer. And I will thank God while I live and through Him rest secure in
life or death.
orderly rooms, warmed
calling all members worth
secure our minds embryo
this world God
works out for our use and
His miracles continuing we
His gifts enjoy
patterns grown or failing,
not fading, just simply all
a family of
people, the species that
insists on improving our
cases of days
lived guessing, leaping from
ordered rooms, the family home,
the one shared
The child left when her parents did. She sorted herself weekly, resorted
to worlds and ways given to homes without walls. The child counted her
years grown by number, not caring, or too warded, too worn to care for
a house with family, family that could have its spelling changed in loud
contests, small wars ending the rooms that would have continued hers.
Hasn't this happened in novels for centuries? Boys and girls lost to progress,
to natural causes, to unnatural, or too invisible matters boiled easiest down to
violence. Sad, more than sad, for where does she go? How will anyone reach
who she is shaping herself to be, unknowing, cooperative lovely youth, angry
and given to much pain, the kind she thinks is home. A new home she builds.
innervate composure REM
member Your song.
near the meadow edge
calling silence whiling stars
our Smaller middling whiskered
ones thin spinning paths
aware zing runs His
our Air sung
two owl wing size, seen
scent, rise, whose sing
our Paths way find
low, out-sky born-doors
wandering our, endures
Failure. / Chose | to end / this | play: Close / the | Sun / day | 1.
to end this play
close: the Sun
Chose to end
this play: Close / the Sun
to end this
play Close the
Wait for the savior's name?
i am listening for you, hoping
I have heard your voice, the white
of your hair has seen your eyes, and
willing, may I take a number, wait for you?
You are a savior, as are the others, close-mouthed
listening, yet willing to smile, and once, to reach out to
my hand, confidence to let go, let go, and still. I have not.
I do not let go. I am waiting for the Savior, trying to forget His
name I know, we know, His legs and body, shriveling as willingly He
went away, promising to come again, to receive, to take the numbers—a
way. And all I crave is to wait that I might hear the savior's name is a face I
already know. A friend I cannot have. A person I sent away, while my faithful
friends hold the best shapes they can of the lives they continue to choose in
definitely chosen, keeping themselves prepared, for their numbers are up at any
time. And I still ask of you, please, may I take a number and you remember it is given
to me, for you to receive me, for me to recall saving grace that is not yet defined, nor defying.
may want tuning.
come early ours
later came your
more two are
convinces me that I love
Until I die, that alone will
show faith full until death.
That alone will prove sins
searing, utterly failing to
capture this life I do, un-
seeing and unfeeling us.
We have lived deaf side
pink flowers on the upright wall
blue five petalled one speed drawing
scentless happy marks stemmed
down short stalks with loops leaves
two one on either side stem home
from ground dirt dust soil ph right
for smiling yellow sun shining orange
points connecting trunks to roots in weather
tempered for sweet partitioned fruit seeds
i realize these are not giving yet;
they do not reach me, either.
i bleached my doilies
today they dry a bluish white
twice matching unmatched largest all white
central white, white
not crowding the bluing sky carrying thrust jets of many tickets
bought people, buckled until heights are safely reached
nothing like clouds, nearer
I bleached my doilies
drying outside by side my hands wrung
and spread them
three, chuckling in their phrase, nothing like
praise: i bleached my doilies today.
fertilizing the gray matter,
drugging my mind to dull
the organ dwelling just above,
possibly within, my rib cage.
Judas went out and hanged himself.
Peter swore he never knew the Man.
I chose to spend the day at home,
choosing elements that might layer
easier than measured numbers af-
fixed to my person. Soft covered temporal
bedding, the flesh held me through
out Easter Sunday when Christ arose,
walked about, not yet glorified, spoke
to His mother; many dead were raised
and walked about, as well. Who they were
is not for us to know. I lay down and thought
about Christ, about how long these days will
be for which I am accountable to Him, Creator, Judge, Savior.