Reckless Poet

Communion

   Lingering communion bread
                    dancing in my mouth
          as unimaginable grace flows
                          into my spirit
                      and down my eyes,
leaving dampness on my cheeks,
                                and hope inside
                            my lungs.

September 2, 2007

 

Soul Food

She sat at the clean
kitchen counter and asked me
to read it again.
We’d eaten fresh beef stew
and opened two bottles of
French wine as Joyce had told us
of her weekend, and we’d
all begun remembering our
trips to distant countries,
things like four a.m. roosters,
chanting natives, and haggling
with taxi drivers,
until finally the dishes
sat drying on their rack and
with spice in my spirit I
read to her from a tattered
old Bible about sin and
grace and hopefulness,
and even after rich Côtes
du Rhone, our souls
began to thirst.

August 8, 2007

 

At the Cinema

Letting out whoops of pleasure,
good buddy on my right,
fair lady on the left,
both get pats of different
sorts, partly from the
screen’s delights before us,
but mostly for the
interjected happiness they
bring me, simply being
out here with me with
their smiles and pats
and pleasance.

August 7, 2007

 

Fireworks

The deluxe camping chairs
nestled comfortably into the
sand of our front-row ocean-side
seats. When Ricardo the Spaniard
began his show, a bedazzle of
sparks and flames from the ocean
barge, I’d been holding a beer
in my right, and her hand in my
left, another set of fireworks
going off in my soul, and I
leaned into her neck and promised
myself never to forget this
moment, when every single
thing was just right.

July 27, 2007

 

Plastic

I read today
     about all the million
  tons of plastic
             taking up
          a quarter
 of the ocean

        how
    we’re eating plastic
                 refuse
in our fish and in
             our lobster

the average man
           has already consumed
      at least enough
already
    to build cancer,
            cramps
       and fat cells,
we’ll be sterile in
         the next few generations.

I must admit
            I got a bit
    depressed
             but also smiled
        a moment
thinking maybe this
           is why I
                 can’t trim down
        my gut.

July 9, 2007

 

Tailpipe Revolution

We’ll throw a tailpipe revolution,
emitting nothing but blessings
as we rev our engines and
explore this eroded world.

July 9, 2007

 

Discovery

He pulled out the map and
pointed (randomly I might
add) exclaiming, “Life’s too
short!” as if this explains
exploring and wonder and all
the cravings for adventure
besetting us.

We’ll grab backpacks with rations
and swimsuits (hey, you never
know) prepared for the best and
the worst, the ultimate happenstance
journey, delighting and alighting at
the jumbled mysteries around
the bend.

My friend will bring a camera,
and I will bring this book,
collecting memories in verse so
as to ever keep the wonder
in this ravaged, real,
replete and roundabout
world.

July 4, 2007

 

Sombrero

A funny kid in sombrero
does a hat dance and flourish,
bold smile bursting applause
from peers and awaking
adventure in everyone.

July 4, 2007

 

Expansion

Sitting atop the porch steps
on a pure summer eve,
French music chilling spirits,
fresh water and friendly feline
accompany revelries of how
a man’s stomach has managed
to expand over ten terrible but
delicious pounds since this
time last year.

June 27, 2007