Shabbat XII

My heart is a little girl
lying all but dead
on a bed.

And you,
my dear friend,
say, Talitha kum!

Shabbat Crook (XI)

Out on a green pasture,
The blue light coming down from the sky,
Stands the whole flock.
Sheep, waiting for the shining sun to warm the day
As the dew damps the grass,
Where their legs push past the flowers—
Yellow and purple and white.
And over in his den,
The wolf waits, lying on his bed of wool,
Watching movies of the kill over and over in his head.
The songs of dying lambs playing softly in the back.

A villain,
Once a week the wolf joins the green pasture,
Moving past the yellow and purple flowers,
Waiting for a sheep to walk past so he can bite its legs.
But this is the day where the sheep all gather together,
Bleating and laughing as time passes,
So the wolf must go join what he can't abide.
And the sheep know he comes to join them—
They know there may be a thief among them,
Whether or not he feels guilt for his violence, once or twice a week.
So he bites a leg…

And hears a growl,
As that sheep turns to him,
Loosely fitting skin folded over a mouth of sharp teeth.
Astonishment, as the wolf draws back
And falls in the wet grass.
The snout of his brother, dressed so wickedly,
Sneers and grins as saliva forms on the lower lip.
You'll ruin everything!
And so the wolf stumbles back to his den, hungry,
But loving the feeling of pain in his belly.
And he blocks off the movies, listening to the songs of dying,

Lambs playing softly in the back.

Appreciation of Heavier Metal

What a sharper view of beauty,
These panicked particles, twisting around,
As the center always, always remains lovely.
Coming down from the great bursting of light,
When quicker songs were more fun to hum,
We stood, or sank, hurling bottles into the ocean, dear friend.

The ocean roared, the monsters of the deep laughed,
The flowers floating on the surface screamed.
Free at last! the constancy of that solid dream,
The assurance of every late night before, after
And during winter. We were certain of the center,
Because everything else exposed our fears.

Afraid of what might happen to us,
Amused as the flood turned to snow,
Turned into a blizzard, back into sunlight,
It melted, as two scared runaways braved
The heat of the storm of the meaningless challenge.
In triumph, should we even remember the venust nymph?

Apology of Sunshine

A getaway into green grass,
A lime dance into fresher seas,
A light unto the simplest warmth.
The weeds wane away when the appreciation
Appears in the perfect planting
Of two pairs of feet under the brightest lantern.

Flooding waves of social ineptitude,
Forgive us, it's only social unnessecity,
With feet planted on the green grass
Of a savory day in the darkest of nighttime winters.
Oh winter, the brightest season of the year,
If only we could know patience like this.

The flooding sea comes where we stand,
Dear sister. For such an adoptive force,
The luminous waves make for substantial reasons
To stay here solidly, approachably,
Elemental, defending this simply deep structure,
Turning now to the examination of a heavier metal.