Mentalphysics

Restore the great immensity,

the black abyss,

the emptiness,

the outside

of our outer space.

Do hands enfold the universe?

Do they have feet to stand?

Snap wide the bounds,

Transcend the awful hope of immortality,

Show that love created space and time.

 

* * * * *

She broke it open,

Split the shell,

Ugly adamantine husk.

Concretion coffin megalith

Hammered asunder,

Yawning forth imprisoned darkness

Breathing out creation

Sparkled in the sun.

She laid it open,

Splendid geode of his love.

 

* * * * *

Sweet lady,

if

in tinseled tear

you pray the evergreen upon us,

supplicate the lavish laughter of your heart

to snow upon the muddy traces of our mind.

 

* * * * *

Jesus left no books behind,

epistolary memories

rolled up,

bound over,

binding our devotion

to lie buried.

His lips were full of atmospheres

evaporating in the nostrils

of our death.

No retina retained his form,

He left no graven immortality,

Only whispers of a harmony in time.

 

* * * * *

God Friday

Dying

Him

They raise a vinegar,

The last temptation body

Hangs,

Baptismal ocean dry.

Wind circulates in sanded tombs,

Escapes to heaven.

Eyes crossed in bloody rage

receive descending sponge,

cerebrum of grotesque compassion.

 

* * * * *

She laid them gently

in the box,

The diamond starry brooch,

Bright sapphire sea

for shell pink ears

The silver nail necklace

wrought of Navajo,

Blood ruby ring

from India,

The deep dark emerald hope,

The man who cried,

She laid him gently down.

 

* * * * *

Autumn Agonistes

Break blood in dying,

shatter palms,

explode aerobic fingertips.

Return the spectral radiancy

to heaven drawing sun,

Fall face full eye

upon the season,

Lay the crimson symphony

within the autumn ear,

Hang your palette

platelets painting

on the living cruciform,

Die deeply in the tree.

 

* * * * *

Jesus walked through walls

where other spirits

stopped

stunned.

Must we too die

to pierce the mural gloom

that binds our hears

to phantoms of our past?

Does Charon's journey

cross our hopes

in reddy sea,

Or do we Lazarus our way to light

and love

and peace?

 

* * * * *

Tiffany Angel

Green garbed angel,

Dove inspired,

Benedicts the people,

Stained green but

Death imperilled.

Bare arm in blessing raised,

impinioned soundlessly,

she floats fenestral,

As bound in pews

The people strain to hear

Faint voices from another world.

 

* * * * *

In the port of

Kennebunk

the Christmas tree wears buoys,

wooden flares from lobster pots.

Beneath its arms spring songs of joy

for birth of babes,

for shepherd's faith

and angels frothed in glory.

Brightly shining faces of the children's choir

are bathed in colored lights and street lamps,

While from time to time

the pyramidal tree

draws eyes aloft to see

transfixed

bright broiling in the moon

a sacrificial lobster

clawing mutely at the stars,

praise giving to its god.

 

* * * * *

Meta-Physical Comforts

I lay anxious fearing death,

the ultimate black hole

sucking into nothing all,

my work, my thoughts, my projects

grandiose and small.

My body lay in gurgles,

its fragile circulation like

the mindless worms below the muck.

My mind unmoored flopped back and forth

between the terror of unending life

and despair begot of finitude.

My feelings slipped to sadness,

sought relief in nothingness,

and failing wept for loss of self.

The mystery of a universe without a whence or whither

paralyzed my consciousness.

And then my faithful lover, crossing over, touched me

just so.

 

* * * * *
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