Seven Days in May Not; or, A New Lord’s Prayer

Our Potus who hides us from sea to lake crisis hollow is your name. Thy Kingdom rots from east evidence storms to trans west fires. Feed us our daily diversions. Forgive us our not tots as we forgive those who abandon us. And lead us not into fees and tolls, but deliver us our lowly…

Summer Notes: 5 – A Blues

In the morning, when the sun comes up In the morning, when the sun comes up In the morning, when the sun comes up Give thanks for this cup of coffee. In the evening, when the sun goes down In the evening, when the sun goes down In the evening, when the sun goes down…

Summer Notes: 3 – The Morning Nap

Catnap back to wind-sun rush kick in the eye fire-worked over street cools quiet hush Grace comes with natural light patches of prayer breezes in the hither and thither of dry leaves palms up elbows open frazzled knees and a calico cat in green sky white bells crawls over out door cot jumps through square…

A Cat’s Prayer: Up to the Birds

– I said a little prayer for you. – Where did you send it? – I tied it to the leg of a bird. – Not how did you send it. Where did you send it? To whom did you send it? – Oh, I leave that up to the birds.

On Prayer and Poetry

What is prayer? When I was a kid, I learned the Catholic prayers, and believed Sister Mary Annette, who liked to quote Shakespeare, when she said, “Words without thought never to heaven go.” King Claudius is trying to pray, looks like he is praying, to Hamlet, anyway, and so Hamlet decides to put off killing…