From the Book of Broken Odes Your sadness flutes through dowel holes cut by woodpeckers in flaking sycamores. They flutter bark and call the maple’s sons, the ones as well with sap and weep. And on their tears the mayfly’s tripwire legs alight to sup, its wings still – (flimsy fanatic, hardened heretic) – And…
“We ought to do something about North Korea,” says Jo Schmo Politician, shaking his head, and the audience murmurs in agreement. A boat of food is shipped overseas, and a defector is shipped to the States. The salve has been applied to the itch, and North Korea fades, once again, from the public consciousness. American…
God says that man can rest secure if he loves God and neighbor, but man would only love God and neighbor if he already rested secure. This maze began in the Bible. It eventually makes it back there. We are reading through the book of Hebrews in my community Bible study. A couple months ago,…
A deepening, richening, falling as children die asleep. Her eyelids clink shut. The warm malleability, the snuggle smell of oatmeal and softly guzzled milk, fade, leave empty fingers, broken eggshells, empty palms. The dark closes, and the cradle is a marble horror. Nothing can’t be knocked away but nothingness itself. Desire pulls my hand…