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TODAY’S PRAYER
Today’s prayershall be recited in silence,total, not even the breathindicating a longing for action.Nor will it invokea holy spirit without usfor it is we whowe must inveighto attain the desiredactions for which we seekholy intervention, casting offfree will, an accreditingpoor decisions, a goatwhere we seek escapeand atonementfor the sins of all the others.Today’s prayershall not…
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DUST AND ASHES
Between Scylla and Charybdisthey cower amidst the ruinsfearful to look skywardlest they encouragethe rains of hell. Now and then they visitthe corpses, hastily buriedgrief drowned by the soundof the laugh of the gunnerpeering down from the hills.It is always night for the souland lookout must be keptfor Charon, who ridessilently along the rivers of blood,that…
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HOLY ARMY
1. A millennium agothe army of the lorddressed in mail and rodeproud steeds acrossbarren lands, swordsflashing in a red roasting sunwashed in the bloodof the infidels.They stopped for prayerblessing the bodiesleft along the dirt trackleft by their hooves,a common gravefor common facesdiffering only in the colorof skin and hair. 2. In this millenniumthe army of…
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NIGHTLY PRAYERS
My mother always told me to saymy prayers before bed, which was oddgiven that she never prayed, and didn’tas far as we could tell, believe in a deity. I knew, as my Rabbi taught, that you do notseek something for yourself in prayer,and world peace and harmony did notseem on the horizon despite my entreaties.…
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HOLY
The sun slowly climbsup onto the mountain’s minaretand announces the call to prayer.The waves in the quiet Lakedip their heads watching treeswith the reverence reserved for morning.The loon sits on the altarand intones the sermon, the wavesstilling for a moment, then ebbing into the day.
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I SPEND THE EMPTY HOURS
I spend considerable time thinkingabout what it is that I am, what is I,whether Descartes’ God or Spinoza’scould possibly exist, or must if I can havemeaning beyond self-reflection, needinga godly mirror, and image reflected.Cogito, on what basis can I draw that conclusionwhat logical proof, carefully constructed willnot fall under the weight of the axiom, cogito…
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PRAYER
We bow our headsand utter wordsnot to the cicadaspeaking througha spring nightor the beetlecrawling slowlyacross the leafsearching for the edge.We bid the crowsilent, the cat mewlinghis hunger and lustto crawl under a porchawaiting morning,the child to sleep.The stream flowsslowly by, carryinga blade of grassand the early fallen leaf. Published in The Raven’s Perch (August 3,…
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SABBATH
Fourth floor, Antwerp Hilton, night encasing the Schelde, ragout of boar and claret slowly regurgitating, I pause ancient words, stutteringly said, hand on my head a shoddy cover two parts of eight fully remembered one section only in part, turning East or a best guess. I ask nothing, or perhaps too much it is hard…
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THE RABBI
The old man peers at the yellowing book then places it on the arm of the chair. He gives the walker a sad, angry look, and still struggling, looks up in mocking prayer. Clutching the book, he limps to the table and sinks onto the chair, risking a fall that could reshatter his hip. Unable…
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METASTASIS
She could barely move her head the cancer climbed her spine reaching upward, clutching vertebrae reaching out, tendrils grasping tearing fragile organs. She would cry, but that would be an admission of defeat, a welcome to death. I cried out for her, entreated our God for compassion that she might stand by her sons when…
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an old writer and his words 