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the resurrection

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icxc_bridegroom_01

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i will drive this road

until it is a poem

 

taking the back way

i mean the way back way

 

where you can drive thirty five

and stop to piss

 

or look at the sunset

or a tree

 

or the cows

on the hillside

 

or the crows

in the field

 

ohio’s beauties

are humble

 

but plentiful

 

i will listen

to the same music

 

until it is like a ritual

 

always new

but with a familiar frame

 

i will drive down

into the small appalachian outlier

 

the little hollers

and quick streams

 

the trailers perched

on the hills

 

just over the bridge

acres of junked cars

 

disembodied

awaiting redemption

 

then up the rise

on honeytown road

 

the low hills

and small woods

 

then near orrville

the fallow flats

 

fertile looking

even in winter

 

where the thousand acre fields stretch

unto the woodlands

 

and the creek flows

under the ice

 

in the shadow

of bare trees

 

sky golden rose

purple clouds

 

and you can see

for a mile in either direction

 

it is a good place to stop

turn off the engine

 

and pharoah’s magic

 

and stand

in the middle of the bridge

 

and stretch and sigh

and breathe

 

and listen

to the cold water

 

headlights coming

 

get back in

turn the key

 

and up

past the train tracks

 

onto

the county road

 

past the semi trailers

and metal barns

 

then in the marshy plain

south of town

 

a flock of geese

are heading east

 

maybe a half mile

away

 

on a parallel path

 

they are doing

thirty seven

 

i speed up to catch them

and we ride a mile in synch

 

until they veer to the south

 

then i am onto

a higher road

 

pharoah again

 

consoling

and cajoling

 

blue hills

on the horizon

 

beauty broken

by power lines

 

and cell phone

spires

 

driving home

driving home

 

to what

 

may

 

wait

 

i will drive this poem

until i know you

 

taking the back way

i mean the way back way

 

until it is a road

 

we are immortal

we have forever

 

and i

 

i am learning

 

how

 

to

 

 

wait

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Everything Is Relative

everything is relative

except the Absolute

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Quit Talking

 

 

quit talking

to yourself

out loud

 

or inside your head

 

quit talking

to people

who are not there

 

out loud

 

or inside your head

 

if you must talk

talk to god

 

or speak in poetry

 

out loud

 

or inside your

 

 

head

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holy

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Greed is Love.

I do not often visit the Acton Institute’s website, but when I do I always find something really really stupid:

The idea that capitalism has anything to do with anything but the love of money, which St Paul says is….  well, you know, is beyond absurd. I could not endure watching more than a few minutes of this but skipping ahead I saw the part about capitalists really trying to make the world a better place and the notion that somehow greed equates Eros…

And to think that there are actonistas who find this inspiring….

And if this does not confirm the proverb ‘Never trust a man in a bowtie’ then I do not know what would.

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