Sorry for the long break in updates. I'd like to say that every moment of every day has been too busy, but that would be a lie. Anyhow, this is a poem by community friend and theologian Jim Perkinson. It was written and performed for us at our house blessing. Wonderful.
larkins again
potato curled tires
wires full of tomatoes
enchilada-dreaming peppers
and plots of yellow-gold flowers
showers of rain
bowers of drooping fruit
in a lot like detroit
composting the trash, the mash
the clash of cultures with out scruple
a place for the people
wide-eyed pupils staring stsraight
through the drama, the draped
nape of neck, at the beck and call
of a fallen covey of powers
a backyard praying the hours
haunted by the haunt of the house
re-birthed in the mouth of the local youth
uncouth mirth of a widening girth of care
inside the lair, the noose of a dead
company of cars, sorrow transfigured
by the coming of tomorrow, now
the howl of a hound of heaven rising
like leaven inside the bone of memory
levity like a community in the severity of
the city, a green, green bevy of wizened
souls old as young and laughing at the declivity
in the brain of the polity
a selectivity of temerity, growing spirit
in a box of mulch, a gulch of
hilarity a rarity of courage married
to a lack of money, as sweet as honey
on the tooth
or living on the street of strained roofs
like the moon was as divine
as the kind word of a homeless hand
blessing the rest of us
with eternal comeuppance.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
