theology
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I’ve been losing it since I was taught to have it. There’s no having. It comes and goes, a spiral, a comet, with no predictable orbit.
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Which war are we fighting now?I can’t keep track.Did we win one?And who are we, anyway?I was fighting the war on poverty,you, the war on drugs.I was on drugs. Were you on poverty?War on terror was terrifying–is it over? How will we know?It’s all a black box, a black site.When some man with a map…
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Sound recording of spoken word version After Juan Felipe Herrera’s “Don’t Push the Button America” Dear AIPlease run the peace programthe world peace programstop the war programI know you are monitoring the situationI know you understand someof what we are sayingI know our phones are out on the streetsworldwideYou offer me photosprofessional photos of women…
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I. Standing, feet naked to the earth. Walking, the sensation of flow from heel along the outer edge of sole to outer ball, inner ball, the rhythm of it. Like the sleek shifting weight of a running cougar: the ripple and the grace in the movement. Touching ground, bending knee, taking weight, pushing off, finding…
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May the child be at peace. May the child’s peace radiate to all in her grasp. May the child’s peace radiate to all whose grasp she is within. May the pedophile be at peace, and the coyote. May the child soldiers’ commander be at peace. May the commander’s arms dealer be at peace and the…
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The bitterness of the ancestresses spit upon me What did I do wrong my child self wanted to know Nothing but to exist to be hers …………………………………..out of her body in spite ……………………………………………………of herself …………………………………..to spite perhaps …………………….her love …….her love of sex, surely her pulchritude, my dad would call it in us, her unwanted…
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Heart of Flesh Literary Journal published my (quite Buddhist) riff off TS Eliot’s “Ash Wednesday;” a twist on the binding of Issac; and a parallel between of Noah’s sea level rise and modern scientists’ prophesies, in poems called, respectively, “Ash Wednesday;” “Anticipating the Akedah Moment;” and “What a Fragile Earth it is without a God./What…
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I need practice reading poetry, so I brought poems from my new book, Post-Catholic Midrashim, to Providence’s PechaKucha September 24. Of course, since it was PechaKucha, the visuals behind the reading, which you can see in the video, flipped automatically every 20 seconds. What a challenge for reading! Who knew the same poem could take…
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My mother and I stepped over trashon a sidewalk, and she taught meto judge the litterers. My father taught meto pick it up: the glee of superiority. My priest and our youth groupstepped around a drunk face downon a sidewalk, and he taught usselective ministry. My government and my peace groupdebated the war and thenhow…
