shrewd

bee blossom

Give and give and give again
Of fruitling form and
Volume in heartbeats
Riveting, rhythmically
Sonically, physically
City-slaked streets, then
Open and open and open again
As in blossoming freely
As in everyone, friend
As in cancelling debts
As in cashing in checks, this

Stacked stock of variant hue
Red as blood and twice as thick
Fruit and snake and stake and fire
And glue, of the give
That won’t cease to stick

As in spreading perfume
As in capturing bees
As in honeyed cocoons
As in molasses freeze
Fold in and fold in and fold in again
Skin origami, bend,
Fitfully, captively,
Leisurely, rapidly,
Poured out in putty
Of rich melanin:
Give and give and give again.

“There was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, ‘What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.’ The manager said to himself, ‘What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job. I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m ashamed to beg— I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.’ So he called in each one of his master’s debtors. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ ‘Nine hundred gallons of olive oil,’ he replied. The manager told him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred and fifty.’ Then he asked the second, ‘And how much do you owe?’ ‘A thousand bushels of wheat,’ he replied. He told him, ‘Take your bill and make it eight hundred.’ The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. Luke 16:1‭-‬9

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
when blood
knock
unveil
something fearsome
gold dust prayer
lamps alike
eat the song
smallness
sisyphus
ninety-nine reasons to stay
before you kiss him

before you kiss him

justice

I’ve been here for years now,
Fulfilling my duty,
Willing, that You’d be
Proud of all I’ve accomplished,
All that You’ve wished of me, this and more:
I’ve done it.
If it were a contest with him and his whores,
I’ve won it.
What’s the matter with You?
You never change toward me,
No matter what I do.

My character reads like a resume, listen:
Excellent ethic,
Determination,
Discipline.
I enforce Your rules
(Loyalty) as I would my own.
To think that You’ll hold me
By the hand til I’m home
Is to misjudge my duty of walking alone.
(Self-starter)
So let me speak truthfully,
(Candor and ardor):

This ingrate,
Who comes to You empty-handed
After making You so,
This sin-slave to his passions,
At least make him go
To the fields and produce something of value, some yield,
Before You kiss him.
Don’t pretend that You missed him.
Make clear the difference between the two of us,
Somehow, so he knows (so I know) that You’re just.

I wear my merit,
(Experience)
It’s woven through years.
Don’t be moved by this sinner’s presumptive salt tears.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’ ‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” Luke 15:25-‬32

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
difficult, divine
better
torrents of my making
mine to forgive
now does the earth
when blood
when blood
knock
unveil
something fearsome
gold dust prayer
lamps alike
eat the song
smallness
sisyphus
ninety-nine reasons to stay