Domestiku
October 26, 2018the blade that scrapes one face
tomorrow scrapes another’s legs
smooth for each other
DiaBLOGue
The Goodness of Created Things
October 26, 2018Amber, formerly pine sap where ant wings settled, feathers, the occasional
tiny frog. A drop of the Jurassic Age I wear around my neck.
A Chop Wizard with its plastic cup, blades, hand crank tearing into the
onion like a cheetah, membrane and flesh.
If Joseph Smith Had Been Born in California
October 26, 2018The angel met him once every four years
in what is now the Ina Coolbrith Park.
The first time digging them up took longer
than the angel had anticipated.
As If Nothing Matters
October 26, 2018When I looked at the body
I thought only in clichés,
those that I had yet to experience
for thirty years.
Reverse Perspective
October 26, 2018May 14, 2017 I dreamt of Pavel Florensky, black-bearded, white-robed, scrunched and sharpened face, quizzical eyes, stepping into a dark classroom, eerie light in a still shaft from the rain-battered skylight above, unblinking student cadets…
Faith
October 26, 2018I once thought Faith the expense to secure
A pass aboard the Boat That Cannot Sink,
Destined for the Island Of The Sure:
A place of facts, concordance, sutured chinks.
In Memoriam: Neil Longo
October 26, 2018Neil Longo, a lover of nature and of thought, ended his life on November 29, 2017. He was my student five years earlier and kept in touch with me. I had picked up hints of…
At Least
October 26, 2018god enters the man & the man
gets delirious
I lie down on my shadow
Trevor at the Fountain
October 26, 2018Armed lightly with his dark English wit, and a shade
of amber from Woodpecker Ale, Trevor’s blue eyes glaze
a smile as he reclines at the market fountain in Cambridge,
just like a Roman soldier would resting in his rags after
Cry for the Gods: Grief and Return
October 26, 2018Fires were raging in the hills near Hearst Castle in the late summer of 2016. They spread and spread, consuming the Monterey pines and golden hills of the most remote area of the California coast, extending close enough to the castle that, at last, tours were cancelled and plans were made to remove the most precious art. From the darkened dining hall, the orange shadow of the flame cast an eerie half-light on the stone walls which, for the first time since their construction, shone no light, were hid by no tapestries, echoed no sound. The Mediterranean towers and domes once spoke of the power of humanity’s conquest and wealth—now they stood abandoned, a desperate testament to the beauty humanity creates and is unworthy of.