drive

At last, at least, I've arrived
at disgust. These arrogant detours
half listening to You in the
back seat. Driving down
Obstinate Street again
like self willed seventeen.
Finding myself: driving circles
around You around I. My
routes reroute through treason.
Meek here at last: Direct me.
I will not ask to
know the road. To grasp
any moment but this moment.
I'm throwing the gps out of the window.
I'm done with mapquest micromanaging
With en route panicking.
I'm handing over the keys. You
know the road, this
good road.
You drive us:
Let's go home.

spring

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 -

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
Green

doxology

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.

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.)
http://allpoetry.com/Huswifery

blackbird dream

What happens to a poem
deferred

First they flirt
wordplay, then
urgent, feet
fistbeat: speak!

Minute by this minute
real life preferred: mama
nurses wipes noses
Watches words
startle brightwinged
scarlet flirt of black birds

Does it explode

beating and cawing
unheard (inaudible)
Wheel away into bright
unwritable
blue

body

i am not good at loving--

i prefer
deserving
serving
(disappearing

which i can't, here,
sitting in frayed jeans and no lipstick
in these pews)

so:
here

among the jcpenneys
jcrews
the high heeled shoes

the collared shirts
the sportcoats
tasteful ties:
here

i will
sit, not raising hands
green joy imploding

not weeping

seeping like cutrate meat
(picked up/abandoned
 by some SNAP mama whose
unmannered and undaddied kids
tear into their unpurchased candy bribes)
seeping, and stinking
in the clean packaged ranks
of skinless freerange chicken breast
Offensive!

(offended) --
Bleeding,
here

i sit, i consider
myself
(i am not good at loving)--

i am
beside
among
together --

oneanothering with these
cleaner, other
souls of Yours