Gather Us In

Gather Us In

Gathering and hunting.

The long trek, the bow, the musket drawn.

Earth's gifts bagged 

or roped and dragged 

or splayed across the backs

of other beasts.

Man breaking bread with man,

lifting it in thanks: through your goodness.

Cruising the aisles, I gather in my cans: 

beans, pumpkin, French-fried onions,

whatever they may be.

Hunt for the right spiral-sliced ham, 

turkey so heavy, I can hardly lift. 

Yams, onions, apples, real butter,

pre-rolled crust for pie,

cider, wine, frozen balls of dough, 

ready for the yeasty heat of praise.

Pardon, Me.

Pardon me my confusion,

You see, I'm feeling lost.

First it was the time coiled up in a net.

Then it was my mind hanging on a string, and yet,

Totally tangled, jangled,

Nothing worth the cost:

          Pardon me, I'm lost.

Never Once Am Turning

Never Once Am Turning

the wagon, 

I am packing

with the few things 

worth the keeping

mostly, leave behind me

more than I am taking

turn my back 

to burned out stubble

in the dewfall haze 

of morning

on the rutted roads 

I'm riding

feel the cooling grace 

of moving

Wormwood

Wormwood 

So, finally, this is how it begins.

One day you're painting the walls,

And the whole thing caves. It starts with a crack,

Then a softness of collapse at just a touch.

Peel away the paint and you will see: the house is eaten,

Its shell filled with layers and layers of cells,

Incubator and birthplace to things that buzz and sting.

Tear out the hive and patch the wall. No matter.

Apply the paint, but still. You know what things may wait

Behind the sheen, how weakness feels and fear,  

And finally, you know how it feels to be betrayed.