A Thought
if you look at the end / of a day, / at geranium streaks of sky, / a shot of sun fading in a vertical beam, / herds of clouds that flock to the west
A Hymn for Ukraine
Prayers quiet fears, / Smoke turns to incense, / Shrapnel turns to flowers, / Braided into the crowns we wear, / Clearing the rubble together.
A world of small things
expanse of rockglacial and basic delicate berriesand hued bloomsgrasses – blue, fescue, and cotton. . . holes in ice(lost at sea)tiny hopes of oneringed by rime quick time breath shortbut darker holesin purest whitenow covered creep closer and feed the futureof nanuq generationsstill tiny, womb-boundwaiting to becomesomething greatin a world of small things. Written while…
The angelic point of view
My first thought when I encountered D. S. Martin’s latest book, Angelicus, was how on earth would he be able to compose a book’s worth of poems about angels? But after familiarizing myself with all 64 poems, I realized one could say he only scratched the surface. A very satisfying scratch it is, however! Martin…
A dream of you on your bench
I have a dream about youin which you are sitting on a bench, your bench,the one you have always sat on,at some distance from the sea off Scotlandbut close enough to smell and hear it. Next to you on the bench are your things:your book, a pair of binoculars,a bacon sandwich because it is almost…
Southern Cathedral
stained glass hangs in leafy curtains/
green, green, green/
between brown columns…
LEARNING TO FLY
Before they knew how to fly they watched birds/all that flap & flutter of feathers…
Psalm 139 Revisited
Search me not, for dust is what you’ll find.Divinely-made, but dust remains, from whatAn image once contained in flesh and blood. Search me some, for likeness fair – a faceTo nameless fear – still stays inside.A place to hide abides within, amid The Me, the small-fall character once full,Rife with life and love and piety.So…
Onion Dome
COVID compounds our losses. In this poem, Jennie narrates to us her own experience of the unthinkable: losing access to her church when she needed it most. We are grateful to Jennie for sharing this intimate, candid journey with the readers of CC. I.When you are raisedunder an onion dome of a roof,where icons watch…
Return to normal
Riopelle exhibit of bronzes and canvaseshidden for months behind a digitalinterface; pixelated representationslonging for in-person encounter. Surprise government opening of museumswith limited time slots available.Join a cohort of the freewalking those familiar, high-ceilinged rooms. Art gallery visit, not as imagined.Running late with a warning in mind:“Arrive 15 minutes earlyor lose your visit.” Rush through revolving doors andup the…
A COVID Via Dolorosa
It is the forsakenness of it all. Long before that piercing cry,Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,long before that God-forsakenness on the cross,Jesus is forsaken on the Via Dolorosa. Here on that road of sorrow,he is devastatingly alone. No one leading him out.No jeering crowds.No virus-carrying spittle.No bloodthirsty mobs.No mocking soldiers.No politicians inciting a riot.No one washing…
