Thursday, June 25, 2015

Flowers & Arrows

William wore a hair shirt
somewhere around Italy,
shows you what I know about saints.

Little picture cards litter
the chaplain's desk,
flowers and arrows pierce the heart.

A yard and B yard assemblies,
melting pot of hot heads
and maimed spirits.

We gather to pray here,
two or more
the math of heaven.

Just a closer walk;
the forgiven getting up,
time after time, doing time.

We leave one chair open
for who went before,
and who comes after.

Each lost sheep
makes a sound only
the Shepherd can hear.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Silk Inheritance

Cuff links and a wrapped chocolate
lay on my desk like shells
from a sea as long gone
as my Pa.

I wore his tie to prison,
in and out, just visiting.

Guys abandoned to the streets
get a kick out of the fat double Windsor
bouncing on my Adam's Apple
when I sing Amazing Grace.

I used to wonder how
such a noble soul
could have such an atrocious wardrobe.

Now I know, disguise
the limit.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Costa Coconuts

Green, the thing
to save a mountain
from slipping.

Coconuts planted
knee deep in the howling
monkey rain.

A roadside taller
than stars slanting
through trees.

Work crew, machete,
shovel, bag of seeds
the size of bowling balls.

Erosion, a soul disease,
the first day with no kneeling
washes out.

Gloves, peeled wet
from the forest,
stay folded in prayer.

One of the things
equal at the equator is
the root of love holding soil.