Sunday, February 28, 2016


Ten, ten, twenty! Ten and
Ten again! Birds
Chirp, burble, trill.
Excoriate! Attack!
From tree to tree
Leaves quiver with their quips
Their quotes, their quills!
It's spring. The bright sky rings with birdchat
Bubbles and gushes
Territorial? Or:
Joy, joy, joy of it!
This whistling exegetical
This twitter - twit - sing
Flight sung and wings unseen
Is doxological -

Thursday, February 25, 2016

found: poem

(the merest urgent thrust of green
chartreuse, threadthin shoot
between the greasy tiles

i might have been praying
on hands and knees
on grey linoleum--
i was not praying
for a poem
or anything
but, loving, to clean
smashed breakfast eggs
the sticky film of milk spilled half wiped up

and here this tender shrill emergent
green-- what unsought words
furl silent, crescent, singing
in this?) thin thread of

Monday, February 22, 2016


Praise God, from Whom all blessings crawl
Sixlegged in hungry hundreds
To trace their slow unstopping lines along the wall.
Praise Him, thirsty earth, whom He gives drink
Sweet rain, and makes your blades and pebbles teem
Surge with sixlegs. Mindless marching praise
Mindless seek entry, mindless gather crumbs.
In threes and twitching sixes, sixes
In sixes this His countless army
(each sixleg arm is numbered, known and loved)
Comes, and comes, and--crushed, crumpling, comes--
Wash walls, wash windows. Crushing, bitten, stung
Praise Him from Whom all sixlegged blessing comes.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

i'm calling this one mousewifery

--Make me, oh Lord (Thy spinning wheel) complete
The course You set -- My brain as frantic as my feet
Scurries-- meanwhile I'm nibbling truths again,
Rechewing truths I nipped at, crammed in hamster cheeks--
Hurry! Hurry! Oh, my hands love busyness.
I'm back again, I'm stirring moments of disbelief
Into a deep and rank and cosey nest--
My heart's trillbeat is panic-- Restless feet
Begin the race again. Oh, I will rest
In what I have found sweet-- and this cage, this pointless race
I'm scampering again-- let me not cease
To turn the wheel on truth. To, fainting, lay it
At your feet (how beautiful!), and rest.

(And here is a good poem.)