Fisher

I came
to the riverside,
cool can of worms
undercover beside me
fleshy squirming warm
invitations to bite, but
the fish were eating
dragonflies, emerald
hovering, jeweled;
could not be fooled
by a hunger which
was mine alone,
gnawing inside.


Sometimes I write things with my eyes half open. That's how this went. And when I woke, really looked, I saw You in every line, my Fisher-of-Humankind, my Love. I thought of how You came to the Jordan amidst the crowds that day. I thought of "Take, eat, this is my body" and "the Word became flesh." I remembered the prophet Hosea, how his life was an expression of You, pining after us, hungry for us, ever hungry with an everlasting love. I closed my eyes with the thought of all this, in thanks for yet another surprise from words written without intent.

Alteration Found

Let me now admit that the marriage of two minds
came without impediment, much. Who knows
exactly why it was such, except that the neurons
seemed to know exactly where they wanted

to go, past stars and tempests. Beyond brief
hours and weeks, until by now there is little
relief from the dendritic march. I cannot, want not
to roll up the surprising sacred pathways,

retrace, erase this hopeless tangle,
these rivulet reaches of love.


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