the wife is worried - a little sentimental drivel in the
opening of the second movement
I am a sentry
for our collective heartbreak
I’ve been careful
I’ve not been this inebriated
in greater than a vicennium
and the last in forgotten bars of angels
it’s the
secrets, you know.
the
medications, you know.
two bottles, you know.
I held it together with white knuckle intensity
a white knuckle sobriety
a white knuckle stability
but my confidants know a different me
a stain on new growth flesh
and new brain synapses
new brain cerebrovascular incident
and fresh heartbreak
over new lines and forgotten strophes
and you,
this love to you - this damaged and broken
purple prose to you
this endless sadness in invincible summer
to you —
whether you accept or withdraw
whether I’ve wounded myself
in your knowledge or presence -
trying to grip
a shattering narrative with elusive dominion
whether I’ve wounded you without knowledge
or not
but
broken hearts know no further atonement
- which is grace
the brokenhearted know the taste of iron
on their teeth and wine stained lips
- which is grace
today I know the relative smoothness of
1200 ml of whiskey
in glass after glass
and cubes of ice
melted away -
which is grace
you:
salt of the earth, hero of these poems
your are not ostentatious by any regard
you are not gauche
to you I apologize for the fragility of my nature
the unique patchwork of a sui generis
a blinding color discernment of this natural
world
and know our place bravely
now finally:
naming is a kind of violence
an unconscious nomenclature
used to strip wonder of its humanity
unadorned beauty
but
I don’t traffic in tragedy
broken chainsaws
or felled trees
July 28, 2015
Dear Judas,
1.
I cannot believe in God
for all the ill his world produces;
for all the memory of your embattled figure.
aren’t we all the sons of man?
the daughters?
aren’t we all the saints of tomorrow?
yesterdays?
dear Judas,
I weep weep at thoughts of you.
2.
holy holy
I suppose I call out for you
(your tragic figure)
feet playing the edge of a precipice
knowing not whither to fall
and be damned
speak for me
(holy holy)
Adonoi for sought blessings
for finding your body to love
speak for me
holy holy – holy holy
dear Judas,
child, saint
you are venerated in my heart
I feel you
listening now for words
from your voice
I pray to you
seek you out in hymn –
which star are you?
speak for me,
our holy blessings and names
our holy actions and love
3.
dear Judas,
where can I find you?
I look in back alleys
search the graveyards
stop in cafes
along busy streets
and I cannot find you
the air is desiccated
sun burnt skin flakes
and peels
as I strive in the daylight
looking for you
in the faces of dirty children
with uncombed hair
I seek you out
among the poor
and tax collectors
among the rich
and forgotten
dear Judas,
I write to you now
to understand
not of your purported betrayal
or that last kiss
wherein you created
Christianity
to understand
the end
the dark night of your soul
I listen among the birds
sitting under trees
for your final declaration
the last act of a hanged man
misunderstood for two thousand years
dear Judas,
you are the first
martyred
forgotten
hanged from the devil’s tree
where no bird sang but wept
where stone and arrow
met your body and mind
your last walk holy
dear Judas,
holy Judas
martyred Judas
I pray for you
call out to you
(your tragic figure)
I weep weep at thoughts of you
dear Judas,
sing for me
holy holy
your soul scarred
and sacred
your body left and
forgotten
that strength of a thousand thousand men
the courage of many more
tracing a line round your heart
broken now
broken for all time
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 