For Mom

Ginny girl, you are my pearl, you are my pearl, you’re my Ginny girl!
The boy is back! The dad-bone-boy is back!
Ready to sign them paypas, paypas, paypas?
Sing praise to the Lord all ye righteous ones; praise is becoming to the upright!

She doesn’t whistle while she works; she sings
And when she’s cooking she stomps a beat,
Joy bursting from her hands and her feet–
Stirring up cabbage and other things.

Except Through Me

Somnambulation, the scientific term for sleepwalking.  The body plays the lyre, a rhythmic lullaby.  Up at the crack of dawn, up at the seal of night, up and about, always up and coming.  Blown like the papers on absent-minded professor’s desk when he forgets to shut the window.  Moved moving movement as studies are distracted, shutters slamming shut.  And the chessboard now is clear, so God save the queen, vintage scarves and all.  Pawn takes rook.  Eat a donut.  A donut.  A donut.  That’s four donuts.  Snapshot of the nerd sleeping in an overstuffed armchair; game over.

Without Way and Truth
Everything is meaningless.
Life, make me alive.


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Because Russ L asked

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