B U R D E N S

May 18, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PETITIONS

“The blind man loves you with his eyes, the deaf man with his music.  The hospital, the battlefield, the torture room, serve you with numberless petitions. On this most ordinary night, so bearable, so plentiful in grave distractions, touch this worthless ink, this work of shame. Inform me from the great height of your beauty.”

-Leonard Cohen, “Petitions”, from Death Of A Ladies Man

 

 

 

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U N B U R D E N E D

One  way  to  be  unburdened

Might be   small talk, not hearsay,

A  Big-hearted  acumen,

Bare  arms,  &  mercy

SILENT FOR INNOCENT

November 16, 2015

Agonizingly,  A  friend, and wise king,  He

Begged  for  his  life.

I woke  &  witnessed his naked strife.

As softly he spoke out his pleas,

Softer, I called my  “All Mercy”.

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If only,  as when our women grieve,

I should wear a veil, head bent.

I would shield  my  damning  grief,

And all my disillusionments.

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.                                                      (from at least 5 years back

PRAYER PAIR

October 22, 2015

EMMIE

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not way outside the trailer porch screen/

stood in a stance/ an emotionally unbalanced/

unforseen chic/ attention-seeking/

14 yr old girl smoking/

she went and vents some again/

about her derelict parents/

and that she hid in bushes/

rather than come home when called from a running car/

she was sassy but the sec she flicked/

her butt out on the sunny yard/

& was told “Pick that up”/

she put it in a puddle/

(she was in more than a muddle)/

she was a spoon in spitting hot gumbo stew/

more than home  was chaos  in her classroom/

nightly she would walk/

right up & down that trailer park street talking/

no  yelling  to  herself/

someone old at a kitchen curtain/

called the cops & they came &/

appallingly cuffed her and offered/

a ride to a cell she had to hammer/

a call to guardians/ and if/

god doesn’t stammer/

they’d call some help/

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.CELESTE

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That crap in yr creamy breasts  threaten us.

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I pray for the day

We lay our selves back

No time on our back

I sing only songs that ring only true

Right to  only to you

In bed we’ll watch “Red Shoes”

We’ll leave off counting re-watching “Brief Encounter”

We’ll listen read & listen to Burton’s reading of “Under Milk Wood”

At least we’ll feast on a breading and cheese plate

We’ll  settle  in  safe

From cancer   and

From  wait.

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.A rarity; one night very recently, I felt it necessary to pray. It was on the behalf of (me &) two very different souls; One a stranger, one a love.  –G.R.