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

galaxies

To trawl strange stars what net
will, dear Man,
suffice?

i fear

i will go on tracing you
in blueveined, pungent cheeses
in bitter beer

Can i, hook and fishnet, know
your sighs
your skin
to hold you,
Soul,
fishcaught

measured, scraped, unbowelled,
tasted

Oh Man!
do i go on slowly
these six years' days
building this not knowing

this bridge
our skin

sagging and folding
dear Man i will
in six and eight and ten
years, be

here, dear Man
i love! Do i
love (want)
(covet) (fear)

Oh Man i love you now
with silence
and no sweet potatoes

i know the stars
some of the stars
in your games' empires

i am jealous
for further galaxies

i want to hang stories
like constellations
on these lights
your whitebright minute victories
your pulsing shames
your blurred and shifting dreams