I think of you once a month, Cheryl

at communion

I have to tell you
that the sweetest
dumbest girl
in front of me
swallowed her bread

and I wondered
if she waited
for the juice
she was like me
who couldn’t stomach
the stuff

if she
needed a Cheryl
to pinch her nose,
ward off gags
and upchucks
and whisper
“blood of Christ”


Playing it again with 55 for Real Toads


so, this is it

i recant my last
underbelly words
written at 0-9 hundred
on day 9, of month 4: April
(the most sour-faced of all)
because of a donkey
because he said daughter
because the verse was 9:9
because the king is coming


9: NaPoWriMo and PAD

Of pearls & pain

here, at easter, of pearls & pain
shall i marry the sand & sea
take my body ~ remember me

of cultured pearl, a valued gain
of fresh story, reborn glory
here’s my body ~ its crimson stain

price tag paid miraculously
this is easter ~ of pearls & pain

a new form from dVerse 

a great i

so much depends

a great tear-

a great omni-

a great i with clean

{after William Carlos Williams
for  Fireblossom at Real Toads}

WhIte WInd’s My FavorIte

The whIte of the wInd Unleashes my Head
 aNd I am Drunk. my skin turns to sIlk.
 I'm the scent of sweet grasses. SImple.
 Christ wraps around me. noT unbIddEn.
 spIrIt laps my Face lIke an unblinking I,
 or a lash pressed upOn me. I pay attentIon.
 Tornado I say, Pour wIld. Pour easily. Pour
 Gold &daIsIes. thOUgh I am undone, tHough 
 I am unHInged, & dISheveled I trust my ear
 & leap. BodacIous. In motIon. In whIte
 nOIse. whIte lIght. I'm so close to helpless
 I'm pErfEctIon. There's no dIsguISing
 the featHErs. there's no dIs-GuIsIng the
 dancIng starfIsh whO sInG I love you! aNd
 as rIdIculous as our encounter Is, out back
 In my lAWn &garden chaIr, I rEally mEan It.

for dVerse poets

This First Sunday

this is my point
of reference
this deferent
wafer, bit of body
bit of bread
flat and fresh
for all centuries

(for Quickly)

Governor of Light

governor of light!
you have passed through the darkness
lifted up mine head

Weekly Writing Challenge: Haiku Catchoo!


Pluck out your feathers.
Rage against restraint,
against the devil
in a sweater.
Throw yourself to seed
and lie down as a swan.
Die for us
this one graceful death. 
And the world will swoon.
dying swan

You tell me if Mick Jagger doesn’t strike this pose in the end of his 1968 performance of Sympathy for the Devil: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3uTLHEGm-M&feature=player_embedded

The Visit

Beside backyard fountdove
A new bird whiter than white
Christ’s Holy Spirit