That Phone Call

I know a man who plays with his children

The games they like to play

Just to enjoy them and be enjoyed by them

But he’s not you

He made that choice

While his kids were young, too

It’s too late for you now

Only the law is left to comfort you

Honor thy father has remained your excuse

The Most High commands and imposes this duty on us

Do this no matter what

Do this little children and you will be blessed

You, whose children are now parents themselves

Do this so that senile and cynical fathers are cared for

Do this because your father is honorable

Don’t bother if he’s a narcissist

Threaten him if he’s a cult leader

And maybe

Just maybe, at best

He’ll read what you wrote for him to enjoy with you years ago

Inception

Planting a seed

Takes time

The right light and warmth

And moisture

At fingertips

With you

It's worth every minute

Of waiting and tasting

Every pulse

Every wave

Quietly announcing

We found divinity

Slame

You are the mirror of my worst

Show me what I look like, to your face

But once we face each other

I can’t fight you, for you

You’ll need to slice knuckles on glass to get to me

And prove that dead men do bleed after all

Once there is blood

You’ll bleed the most

If you refuse to heal

If you retreat into solitariness with your angst and shame

Instead of meeting together in our tears

Breakfast at Wendy's

 

I was born into this womb of a world

And kept alive by a wannabe doctor

That’s the best I can say

About one's contribution

Fed from the pulpit

One Sunday at a time

I wasn’t fed poison or medicine

It was more like chips and soda for breakfast

And microwaved lasagna and fruit punch for dinner

Without blushing or sarcasm

It's what the doctor ordered

Save me

 

Most holy Lady, mother of mine

My soul fills with sorrows

I want to say something good

Because there is good to be spoken

But good necessitates beauty

And every time we talk or text

Or meet in person

He’s predictably awkward and ugly

I could say that to his face

But he can’t see the good in it

What else could I say?

To his face, I could cry

Saying he never has changed

He has never listened

He has never learned

Although he’s intelligent

And has ears that hear

He uses both to posture peculiarly

Sometimes politely, to not appear so strange

Most times, to be the expert in conversation

Far less, though, to sit in the seat of the scornful

That would be good to say

But he can’t receive it favorably

As the wounds of a friend

It’s just another wounding

An opportunity for imprecation

Like Saul clutching the spear

He’s tough and fearless as a lion

And fierce in battle as the unicorn

Yet tired of battling within his home

For respect and guidance

For trust and honor

What now can be done now that he is exposed?

You tried to honor him

But he would not listen

You pleaded obsessively for him to learn

But he never could imprecate himself

And this time he can’t silence you

Your voice has gone out into all the world

Crying in a wilderness of error

Will there be change from now on?

I cry out to you, O Physician

I acknowledge your works of wonders for the dead

She describes your mercy in the grave

And your truth in destruction

Intercede for us sinners

Our souls draw near to Hades

Do not forsake us sinners

O God, forgive us our sins

And have mercy on us.

Thank me later

 

Many think I’m crazy

Am I really?

I merely record moments

and paint punctiliar seasons

like the tree I see here and there,

the one planted along channels of water.

What I feel, I bleed out,

scratched onto thin slices of its innards:

Pain, trouble,

confusion, certainty,

embodied and at peace

in mystery and glorious favor.

There’s more to life than facts and physics,

making math reality.

My systematics are securely obscure,

like millions of pounds of rain,

floating above a desert

and I don’t care when it drops a tear,

or if it ever does

because the dead are raised,

the impious destroyed,

the living reign with us

into the ages of ages;

and there is not a God damn thing anyone can do to change that.

—S-E-L-F-C-O-N-T-R-O-L—

 

 

I’m working on it

Nibbles of taste buds at a time

don’t seem to be as effective

as jawbones lopping off lengua

and knitting it back together

with toothpicks

Bite your tongue, they say.

I have, many times. 

See this stitch?

And this one, ad infinitum?

If you pick these sutures apart

I bleed, too.

And so would she.

That’s why I wear the beads of her hands

of gold and white,

elasticated and easy to snap,

suffocating my skin every day.

We actually feel pain, you know.

Let's make peace

It’s so simple what I ask for ….

Admit you grumble and complain

About that destructive lamb

that bleats incessantly

Standing in the corner

plugging his ears

Promise me you won’t 

do that around me

Although you made clear 

many times

That won’t be a problem

Admit you knew I wanted 

to play that role

And you overstepped your role 

in this team effort

You took the project over 

and pushed me away

Admit that you knew 

it was my role 

to reformat the prayers

Even though

You still have not 

prevented me at all

from doing so

And that really hurts my feelings 

because I really wanted to do that

Apologize and let me know 

you trust my leadership

that I don’t have 

which I imagine I do

Let me know you will follow 

my leadership

Can you do this 

unreasonable, irrational 

demand of mine?

I can’t be part of your rivalry 

with that strangled cat in the corner

Nor can I work with someone 

who does not respect my leadership

which is entirely illusory 

Can you understand that?

I’m the reasonable one; 

I’m the pious one, the lowest of all, 

with visions of perfect prayer

Your actions which I won't specify

in this chimera of mine 

Toward that pathetic creature and me 

are so hurtful to me

I cry benedictine tears 

of penthos

and you don’t care

Even though you’ve been very clear 

about caring justly 

and thinking clearly

To not think less of one's self

but to think rightly of one's self 

as true humility

This is not a healthy relationship 

We can make peace

It’s easy: let’s make peace

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, 

now and always, and forever and ever. Amen. 

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.

Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. 

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, 

now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.

Thanatography

 

I wear this mask

For my mom

Whose fear of germs explains everyone else’s today.

I stay at home 

In solidarity with this terminal generation

That is truly sick and needs the support

I wash my hands

For my neighbors

Who rub their eyes and touch everything in isle nine as I do

I stay six feet away

For small businesses

That welcome slitting each other's wrists

My family won’t be getting the shot any time soon

Others deserve it far more than we do

It would sicken us, and we would be forever changed, if it were any other way

Most importantly, we order take out

For family and friends to be safe from pathogens

And to slow the spread of this virus

Just kidding

We never order take out

We regularly go to the restaurants that don’t harass us for not wearing masks