I Don’t Miss Working on the Farm
The hay balers are out early in the fields
Headlights outshining late September stars
The din of diesel engines shaking the world
I don’t miss working on the farm at all
Category: Poetry
Reapers
Reap to the edge,
Destroy the fence-row.
Make more crops
From which money grows.
In Praise of a Candle
A votive candle is good, and prayers are good
And those for whom the candle is lit are good
Especially when they feel they are not good
Because they are His gifts, and they are good
Polarity
You spoke of oranges and pomegranates, and moonlight on the Sea of Galilee…
Read MoreWindow Shopping
She set out to Assume Nothing.
Adil would be waiting for her.
Grey gloves in hand.
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.
News & Current Nonsense
You are a valued customer
No public restrooms
We don’t carry parts for that
Restrooms out of order
Eternal Cycles
I am becoming a blade of grass,
That grows and withers, yes.
But also, as it does so,
Develops some perfect Kelly green stalk…
No Straight Lines In Nature
That commonplace of art instruction is true:
From the rainbow to the tomato worm
And in the rhythms of our chambered hearts
Creation curves itself around our lives
Time Ticks, Mr. Danan
Time ticks.
Alarmed, he looks at the door.
No knock, no bell, no call.
She is late.
She is never late.
Assume Nothing
A humble door lies to the observer about what lies beyond.
Azure blue paint faded and peeling reveals aged wood.
Above the door a faded sign.
“Assume Nothing”
Ornate calligraphy painted gold, red, cream.
The intrepid onlooker sees an opportunity to explore.
Brandeis University Promulgates an Edict Against Thinking
Addict homeless person prostitute you guys
Rule of thumb picnic wife-beater trigger
Warning disabled victim survivor
Lame freshman spirit animal insane
A Man of Bethsaida
I am a man of my people,
and I am loyal to my community.
My city stands steadfast and proud,
and my fellow men and women, friends, are strong.
Yet, something inside me has always nagged me,
and try as I may, this feeling continually intensifies:
Mysterious Jellyfish Gathering
That jellyfish gathering is no mystery
Like everyone they want to go to the beach
To play in the water, soak up some rays
Picnic, show off, buy some souvenir mugs
Coffee and Cookies after Mass
Only there is no coffee after Mass
No cookies or Kool-Aid for the kidlets
The parish hall has been locked up for months
And you know, there’s just something wrong with that
The Star-Spangled Story
Many sing this anthem but do not know the tale,
They do not know the dark, the unsettling suspension
As Francis Scott Key and his prisoner soldiers
Waited hoping that God, would give them attention…
A Child of God and of Long Summer Afternoons
Do you remember lying on the grassy bank
On a summer afternoon, holding very still…
The Writer, the Reader, and the Synapse Between Them
Like a 16-year-old crossing a field at noon
A little word has a lot of ground to cover in the heat
A mile of open ground to a wall and some trees
Where confusion does not want it to arrive
Midsummer Mysteries
One of the merry mysteries of midsummer
Is that midsummer isn’t midsummer at all
Maybe it was, back in the shadows of time
When Tolkien’s fairies blessed a happier world
The 7th of June, 1944 and 1970
My father beached at Normandy on the second day
(He was okay with having missed the first)
From there through France to Belgium in the mud
For a bloody Christmas in the icy Bulge
This Homely Land
This massive land that I see
Spread from sea to shining sea
Is a very unique lot
It’s been called a melting pot…
LogoSophia Magazine 