Anatomy of Faith, three parts

March 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

I

Wall paper clings to the room like skin
The ceiling is like the face of an owl

Gold swirls methodical, militant lines and
Rows like faces
Pointy chins
Gargoyle palms
Ornate masks
Silent, pendant, on the light –
The legs of tables end in carved paws, sharp tendons. The air smells musty and all the furniture is oversized – the heavy velvet drapes don’t sway, they hang like an
Innocent figure in death, all the faces in the walls look on their glory.

Vessel cracked, sleek panes
We watch.
At the edge of the earth,
Hot breathy sigh
Bitterly quenched

The room shivers, seizing, torn in two the space that divides

II

My eyes are scales, flakey and dim –

I am cared for by those suspicious of me
I was charging, murderous, seething
Rogue zeal
I am
A Villain

I pursue those belonging to the Way
I haul their bodies through the streets
I hate
Because I believed
In figures clad like jewels – villains.

III

bell-elemsEach time I drive over a pot hole, my brain knocks around in my skull
Side to side – resounding
The anatomy of bell parts
I am
Like a bell
Crown
With ears and eyes
Neck
Shoulder
Dome
Decorative Belts
Head of tongue and staple
A strike point
Body – Skirt
Reverberating knowledge I have been told – the way I am struck – how I absorb
A beating

My axis sways
Between spirit and flesh
A stubborn defeat

I am being conformed to Him.

An Image of whom, there is always someone
Standing by who’ll tell you
New and improved theologies for a new and improved Jesus

The Axis
Who shook the world.

A Table by a Window on Dale Ann Drive

March 9, 2013 § 2 Comments

There is a pumpkin scented candle
On the dining room table

A green satin string
Stretched from my book
Across the grain of wood where
The stain has worn away

Oscar perches
On three points and
Sniffs the air –

The window is open
Its layers are lines in a poem
The outside, then the screen, then the glass

I say
Good morning to the chirping bug
Caught inside the world of neither in nor out

Then the inside, a room
And there are webs and
The crispy corpses of insects, dust, paint chips

Layers of sound
Birdsongs tuned to 10am
The jingle of dog chains followed by
The crunch of shoes against the sidewalk

A train – an airplane – a crow

On the table
That same adapter is coiled
Like those random things
In a house

Without a closet or drawer to place
Without a basket or box or bag

Childhood

November 30, 2012 § 5 Comments

Mom is sick – bronchitis – has been since my Ma-maw passed last Monday. We’re all certain she caught it after all the travelling back and forth to the hospital and nursing home. Ma-maw would have been 99 in December and I am so thankful to have gotten a picture of Lily and her great-grandmother together, meeting for the first time after 100 years! « Read the rest of this entry »

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