plastichappy

it's go time for the holidays again
day twenty of december
soon we'll be falling like snow into
jackie's house of christmas love
it's been a long year of joy, pain, & miss
but we've heard all that before
as zimmie would say: mixed up confusion
but i have found new strengths this year
strengths in questions without answers
strengths in friendships new and old
strengths in word orginization by both will and jason
& strengths in faith (ha ha l'aro i know it's a tricky word)

i'm also living proof of an old saying of mine
"love need not involve proximity"
i'm learning new things about myself and my gal all the time
& while i miss... i grow as well

in a world of rich angry men, horrible lack, and religious fraud
i have glimpsed the grace of god.

"sometimes i wish i were catholic... i don't know why"
--david lowry

and now a poem by li-young lee

This hour and What is Dead

Tonight my brother, in heavy boots, is walking
through bare rooms over my head,
opening and closing doors.
What could he be looking for in an empty house?
What could he possibly need there in heaven?
Does he remember his earth, his birthplace set to torches?
His love for me feels like spilled water
running back to its vessel.

At this hour, what is dead is restless
and what is living is burning.

Someone tell him he should sleep now.

My father keeps a light on by our bed
and readies for our journey.
He mends ten holes in the knees
of five pairs of boy's pants.
His love for me is like his sewing:
various colors and too much thread,
the stitching uneven. But the needle pierces
clean through with each stroke of his hand.

At this hour, what is dead is worried
and what is living is fugitive.

Someone tell him he should sleep now.

God, that old furnace, keeps talking
with his mouth of teeth,
a beard stained at feasts, and his breath
of gasoline, airplane, human ash.
His love for me feels like fire,
feels like doves, feels like river-water.

At this hour, what is dead is helpless, kind
and helpless. While the Lord lives.

Someone tell the Lord to leave me alone.
I've had enough of his love
that feels like burning and flight and running away.