Iron Range reunion

 

June 3; 

from this week in 1997      (I was 52) 

 

Iron Range reunion

I will not be back

for the village centennial

I entertained the idea

served it a beer and some chips

dismissed it with a nod and a wave

It’s a very small town

every corner a memory

every loss a pain known by all

I cannot live there

the weight is too heavy

for a burden so small

Those of us gone

know why we left

there was so little to offer so few

The bleak beauty of the place was mined out

the voice of mean blame

is diminished by distance

duty to change it left to those who stayed

I won’t go back now to see who did and didn’t

regarding here or there

but sometime not locally momentous

I’d walk the streets again

on an August afternoon

or a January midnight

hold hands with the past

The source of reflected light is insignificant

 

from this week in 1997      (I was 52) 

 

The source of reflected light is insignificant

Any dim illumination is appreciated

Whether off the fog bank from a point on shore

or rebounded through clouds from the sun

matters not once the thought of destination is dismissed

Adrift however does not mean directionless

Preoccupation with waves keeps one afloat

I am not in the same place I would have been

had I not been paying attention

Nor am I in position I might have been

attending to some other 

Never somewhere to get always someplace to be

Colors of inspiration reach me indirectly

then glance off and onto something else

My diminished vision of what is there

is all I have to distinguish what is not

Brightness is enhanced with a little imagination

That has always been my occupation

and I’ve done it to see where I am

before I glance off and onto something else

Other Prayers

 

March 2, 1997  (I was 52)

        

         Other Prayers

Swing low sweet chariot

for Judas Iscariot

swinging near the potter’s field

 

The kiss bestowed in the garden

was accepted with implicit pardon

from a master whose lips and fate were sealed

 

Is it I is it I at fault

they asked and passed the salt

while he knelt and washed their feet

 

It was those thirty silver pieces

that built the church of Jesus

and both men bought the death of deceit

 

Then upon a crumbling rock

stood and crowed the cock

for the other shepherd who feared the rood

 

Thus the hanging tree and cross of wood

have for twenty centuries stood

to define evil as well as good

 

So swing low for Judas Iscariot

let him ride the golden chariot

while we take retribution and bury it.

The source of reflected light is insignificant

from this week in 1997      (I was 52) 

The source of reflected light is insignificant

Any dim illumination is appreciated

Whether off the fog bank from a point on shore

or rebounded through clouds from the sun

matters not once the thought of destination is dismissed

Adrift however does not mean directionless

Preoccupation with waves keeps one afloat

I am not in the same place I would have been

had I not been paying attention

Nor am I in position I might have been

attending to some other 

Never somewhere to get always someplace to be

Colors of inspiration reach me indirectly

then glance off and onto something else

My diminished vision of what is there

is all I have to distinguish what is not

Brightness is enhanced with a little imagination

That has always been my occupation

and I’ve done it to see where I am

before I glance off and onto something else

Other Prayers

March 2, 1997  (I was 52)

           

            Other Prayers

Swing low sweet chariot

for Judas Iscariot

swinging near the potter’s field

The kiss bestowed in the garden

was accepted with implicit pardon

from a master whose lips and fate were sealed

Is it I is it I at fault

they asked and passed the salt

while he knelt and washed their feet

It was those thirty silver pieces

that built the church of Jesus

and both men bought the death of deceit

Then upon a crumbling rock

stood and crowed the cock

for the other shepherd who feared the rood

Thus the hanging tree and cross of wood

have for twenty centuries stood

to define evil as well as good

So swing low for Judas Iscariot

let him ride the golden chariot

while we take retribution and bury it.

During our loudest ages

May 6, 1997  (I was 52)

During our loudest ages, the soul diminishes.

The polish of brash business tarnishes.

Phosphorescent ego shadows luminescent spirit

and any god in us won’t let us near it.

I shout an affirmation of determined ignorance

to shine on the collective unconsciousness.

Brilliant obscenities obscure the hope

of a fool given enough eternal rope.

Other Prayers

March 2, 1997  (I was 52)

        

         Other Prayers

Swing low sweet chariot

for Judas Iscariot

swinging near the potter’s field

The kiss bestowed in the garden

was accepted with implicit pardon

from a master whose lips and fate were sealed

Is it I is it I at fault

they asked and passed the salt

while he knelt and washed their feet

It was those thirty silver pieces

that built the church of Jesus

and both men bought the death of deceit

Then upon a crumbling rock

stood and crowed the cock

for the other shepherd who feared the rood

Thus the hanging tree and cross of wood

have for twenty centuries stood

to define evil as well as good

So swing low for Judas Iscariot

let him ride the golden chariot

while we take retribution and bury it.