The Secret from the Ground
In childhood’s realm, I found a prize in earth: It was a tiny king and tiny queen Arranged upon a palanquin of gold, My memory insists they’re beautiful, The metal robes, enameled faces, crowns As sparkling-bright as cleft and burnished gems. The soil had changed the iris of an eye, And so the king had…
Ascetic Feats are Not Sainthood
after Jack Gilbert’s ‘The Abnormal is Not Courage’ The Stylites stood on poles for thirty, forty yearsFlagellati scourging themselves with ropes. Bloody and merciless.A magnitude of heroism, of self-denial that allows me no peace.This poem would lessen their feats. QuestionThe piety. Say it’s not beatitude, not at it’s best.They were impossible, and too strife-driven. Too unique.“Whose…
Two Variations on the Theme of Christ’s Bride
“The Church is in Christ as Eve was in Adam. … God made Eve of the rib of Adam. And His Church He formeth out of the very flesh, the very wounded and bleeding side of the Son of man.” — Richard Hooker Creating man from dust, And woman from his side, God…
The Bookcase
For my dead father 1957-2017 Here is artifice: these books, this grain— The knots and notches severed from a pine, The gilded words on every leather spine, The lumber scraped and straightened by your plane. You’d measure twice, cut once, then dull your pain With work and whisky, sharp as turpentine. But here is artifice…
The Restoration
Sweet Peace’s Prince, who once I did exile A traitor to my soul, has now returned To regal Restoration; to beguile My treachery, He chastised me, but spurned Me not; with kinder loving word He yearned To reconcile. My Parliament adjourned, To yield consented, what excuse have I To let my vices turn my soul…
I.M. , I.M.
north Louisiana On holy ground these woods reclaim There now remains one standing stone, The others fallen, name by name, A country graveyard overgrown. The marble, lichen-crusted, worn, By weathering time in time displaced, Tilts on a base by storms uptorn, With runner, web, and tendril graced. An angel kneels, with folded wings, While floating…
Pentecost, 2017
Lord, save me from this rushing mighty wind That beats me beyond belief — buffets, blows The breath from me till I can’t walk, can hardly stand, just Stumble. Its confounding force opposes my progress, slows My steps, outdoes my poise – Checks, chokes me, hurts, thwarts, throws dust In my eyes, Defies my tries…
Dragonlike Nature of Christ in the Incarnation
Metaphors of dragons to understand Christ’s humanity and divinity Compares to awareness of right hand Truth tied up in the Blessed Trinity Dragon could be destroying villages All the while human Junius lecturesHe’s oblivious to the destruction.We put God in a box with diligence And “natures don’t do stuff” he conjectures Emily draws the Yale…
Three Adams
Dali paintings, skulls and monsters, particolored wings, Cards and dice and portraits line the walls of Suicide Kings. Breathing shallow, still as rock, I’m trying not to blink. Virgin plains of ruddy skin imbibing jet black ink. Adam leans against my back and scribes a fearful face: An image of an image of the saviour…
No Health
In the classic Books of Common Prayer, Morning and Evening Prayer begin with a confession of sin. Modern liturgical revisers struggle with some of the wording, finding it too definite and too hard to say. The phrase, “…and there is no health in us…” is particularly troubling to them. It shouldn’t be. Because they are…