Daily Archives: January 19, 2018

Unsaid

I will not say
they are animals.
Their behaviors are
far too human. 

I will not call them
stupid as what they’re
doing seems to be
focused and working.

I will not say
this is temporary,
that at heart I’m sure
they’re fine people.

I will not say
they have some
good ideas. They do
say what many

are thinking
but until this were
afraid to speak aloud.
They aren’t afraid anymore.

I will not say 
there’s no hidden
agenda. Someone’s
certainly not talking

about something,
because somehow
certain people win
regardless of public

knowledge, regardless
of apparent opposition
by the powerful. Regardless
it always seems to work out

for the same people.
I will not name them.
You know them, I know them,
they don’t care who knows.

All these ideas and words
I’ve left unsaid are things
people know, and they
either detest them

but despair of changing them
or they dismiss them and think
they will be gone soon or
they love them and are

sitting pretty with those ideas and words
in their laps as if they were darling
children with full sets of teeth
from birth to go along with

their deep yellow eyes.
I will not call them by their names
but I will not avoid those eyes,
I will not refrain from cracking their teeth

if I get the chance
before I am devoured.

 


St. Vincent

“…there is a certain amount of writing that can only come from a monastic space.”  — St.Vincent

 

Alone. A lost tree
seeking a forest — thing about
trees, though, is they

can’t move so is it lost at all
if it’s living where it’s 
been planted? Perhaps

solitary is a better word
if it is a happy tree. It stands by
itself, seeking best words.

All of its time caught in a web
of slow growth and searching.
Speaking of best words,

happy doesn’t enter into
a lone tree’s vocabulary. 
Say instead it’s self-contained

and always fixed upon 
what it grows from: it grows
from matins through lauds

to vespers, morning prayer
through to night prayer. Speaking of
St. Vincent, musician and not

saint, it is always possible that prayer
may become song. Speaking 
as man and not tree, I refuse

to see difference between those
words. Speaking as a solitary,
i am not ashamed to grow bark,

resolve to be rooted,
settled without patronage.
St. Vincent non-musician was

patron saint of poor people and vintners.
Never an extra word for poets. I am
poor and I am drunk on my assets:

I speak of course of words, prayers, 
songs, monastery walls,
vows, oak, bark, and bite.


The Depths

Take the Grand Canyon, for instance.
It swallows your head. It breaks
your dimensions apart. If
you’re on the edge of it and
you toss a stone here
it may travel over a mile 
before it stops. Where else can you 
say such a thing —

except perhaps when 
anchored above the Mariana Trench?
A stone dropped over a ship’s rail there
can travel seven miles straight down
with no effort on your part
other than whatever it took
to get there in the first place.

Get to the right place 

and if you just let go,
you can watch it fall away
as far as it’s possible
for a burden to go.

Skip climbing.  Everest
is only five miles high and
it’s not strictly, purely vertical.
You feel stuck? You feel low?
Here’s the totality of what I know:

the depths can offer 
all you need. If you’re
already there, let go.