Void and coincidence and blessing
at our heels; the right words at the wrong time
trip over stream rocks and cling to twigs.
Followed and hounded, we step into emptiness.
We cannot carry this heavy world
though at times it fits into the small of our backs.
Little Buddhas spread across the table top;
smoke signals from our fingertips;
find us here. Behind the ham and cobs,
we claim to know so much from this mud reflection.
We touch the tip of thank you. Gratitude won’t fit
into our mouths. The consonants and vowels we speak:
after all this time of presumed fluency, we’ve uttered
mispronunciation and misunderstanding.
Our names engraved heaven’s cemetery stones.
After we die, we reach our zombie hands—we blind creeps--
And feel for our identities in this dust where we’ve returned.
A breath of laughter encompasses all revelation. Speak to us
in days when lilies are enough.
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Okay, so I am totally missing music shows. I wrote this poem for my exchange with Bethany but sort of liked it so I'm posting it here, too. Not so sure about the year for the stones...
MUSIC WORSHIP
florescent sweat, ochre heat
and the bass rhythm grabs us
by our sticky shirts and takes us
where we forget and submit
by closing our eyes. we forget
the stench and dripping bodies
smashed into us on every side
some take trips but the sound is enough
to spark images of calm. a soft voice
amplified to an echo
followed by a cheer
finished by that one who
always roars a yeeah to ignite
the snare drum count-off
and we blast off and we
shake in rhythm because we
are invisible beneath the spotlights
on someone else
at the rock and roll hall of fame
i learned there was a movement
in my parent's time
against the satanic forces
in electric guitars. acid children
climaxing on musicwas not
the way to heaven.
when my father found jesus
he gave away his 1969 stones tour tickets.
he couldn't worship them anymore.
my brother finds jesus again
and again at u2 concerts,
saw him, for the first time,
worship:
hands in the air,
eyes closed,
he flew out of the arena.
when i sing alone
to a city beyond glass
and an omnipresent god,
i am invisible under the spotlight
on someone else.
MUSIC WORSHIP
florescent sweat, ochre heat
and the bass rhythm grabs us
by our sticky shirts and takes us
where we forget and submit
by closing our eyes. we forget
the stench and dripping bodies
smashed into us on every side
some take trips but the sound is enough
to spark images of calm. a soft voice
amplified to an echo
followed by a cheer
finished by that one who
always roars a yeeah to ignite
the snare drum count-off
and we blast off and we
shake in rhythm because we
are invisible beneath the spotlights
on someone else
at the rock and roll hall of fame
i learned there was a movement
in my parent's time
against the satanic forces
in electric guitars. acid children
climaxing on musicwas not
the way to heaven.
when my father found jesus
he gave away his 1969 stones tour tickets.
he couldn't worship them anymore.
my brother finds jesus again
and again at u2 concerts,
saw him, for the first time,
worship:
hands in the air,
eyes closed,
he flew out of the arena.
when i sing alone
to a city beyond glass
and an omnipresent god,
i am invisible under the spotlight
on someone else.
