Choose Your Own Belief: Of Sharks, Art, & God
October 26, 2018Since hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul,
Then, belief is the feather vane
holding it together.
Since hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul,
Then, belief is the feather vane
holding it together.
The black-cassocked crow
broods in the eucalyptus
where blood-red umbellates
breathe out the odor of camphor.
As the graves grow green
and spring missiles its
multitudinous wings,
the blade that scrapes one face
tomorrow scrapes another’s legs
smooth for each other
Amber, 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.
The 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.
When I looked at the body
I thought only in clichés,
those that I had yet to experience
for thirty years.
May 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…
I 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.
Neil 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…
god enters the man & the man
gets delirious
I lie down on my shadow