6.18.2007

the king of boredom

i sit upon my throne, take
up my cast iron crown, and
address my loyal subjects:

welcome, brothers and sisters,
dullards and good idiots,
welcome to the land of the
faceless whom blow muted fish
bone trumpets and wave blunted
butter-knife partisans
adorned by banners that bear
apathy's simple coat of
arms, greetings to the lazy
and unimaginative!
now please line up to receive
your ties, your boring old
nine to fives, and cotton chains
that you yourself shall tie to
thirty inch flat screen TVs,
mortgages and nagging wives.
blind man on street corner

where did he find
such a splendid
red cowboy hat?
nirvana

the space between
two round water
marks that never
quite touch

6.05.2007

handwriting

think of all the
beautiful
things i might
write
if something
other than my
hand
could do the
writing!
but nothing else
can,
so i watched
bemused.
is it
me or my (left)
hand
wondering
what my
right (weak)
hand
is thinking?

6.04.2007

spasm

And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.
Acts 2: 1-4

the heat in the church is oppressive a three-year-old sits draped across his father’s shoulders with his back to the alter the boy looks up suddenly the boy has no bones he writhes out of his father’s arms while looking up fear frustration and joy play across the boy’s face the boy pulls desperately at his father’s hand but his dad is a statue like i am the boy thinks he can move his father if he can pull a little harder
i looked up to see what the boy is looking at from the mouths of children: two of the ceiling fans near the back of the church where i am sitting are broken that is why it is so damn hot the fan nearest the alter and the crucifix is spinning so fast it looks as if it is going to spin off its fixture into the front row pews on the right hand side and make a horrific mess of things it will be months before anybody looks up at the fans
but i can see how it could happen, the fan spinning off the fixture the fan would only kill people on my right hand side it would not touch anyone on the left hand side of the church (or the right hand side of the wooden Christ that hangs over the alter) the same side as the little refrigerator that they keep the crackers and juice
and the priest said, “the holy spirit is meant to make us uncomfortable and maybe even afraid”
he could see the fan too but it does not bother him in the least he is too busy bowing he bows like all of the fans all at once he bows violently with all of his body bending backwards and forwards no one sits in front or behind of him at the height of the music he moans too

behold, a stranger at the door ge gently knocks, has knocked before, has waited long, is waiting still:we treat no other friend so ill

i want only to laugh
saint piqued polo sits next to him saint piqued polo’s veins joyfully pop out of his arm as he grabs his shoulders to slow his bowing. saint piqued polo pushes him left to right letting him sway left to right, making it easier for the people behind him to watch him saint piqued polo is the happiest man in the church he smiles, and sways back and forth with him and enjoys the feel of the cool air on his bald head from the fans above
saint little brother is not as strong as saint piqued polo but is just as kind, and is the greater of the two saints because he gets angry. Saint little brother is a healer, when he begins to bow too fast he places his hand on his forehead to slow him he always rubs him on the back
saint minivan only smiles

if we will open, see, he stands with loving heart and laden hands;o matchless kindness! and he shows this matchless kindness to his foes.

i want only to cry and laugh and bow because i know the three year old knows he knows i want to tell someone about the fans but as i walk out the church i wonder if that little room that the disciples huddle in was hot o bet all they wanted was a fan
i want to moan but my voice is stuck in my throat o God, send forth your Holy Spirit into my heart that i may perceive, into my mind that i may remember, and into my soul that I may meditate aveni, creator Spiritusmentes tuorum visita,imple superna gratia, quae tu creasti pectora, amen!