I wrote these three poems while studying in Jerusalem last year.
Your pavilion is God’s hiding place
While you were out searching for God,
He was on his way to your house.
Maybe you missed him.
He took the long way to see you.
He wanted to smell the flowers and
The bark of the redwoods
How could you have seen him?
You were running,
Frantically calling his name,
Taking all the shortcuts you know
Smelling the flowers
Maybe he thought you’d be out in the field with the farmhands
Or sipping a cool drink from the brook
He didn’t see you along that way
When he got to your house,
You were gone.
Looking in all the wrong places
Who’s been traveling to your house
He wants to see you.
Maybe he’ll meet you along the way,
On the day,
You take the long way
To see him.
You think I don’t know what it’s like down there?!
Yea, I know–
you would have been one hell of a Buddhist, kid.
Where ever I put you,
I’ll find you.
Look around, everyone’s just been spit out there,
Puked all over the religious bathroom floor.
You’ll pray your life into fruition
You’ll get what you want, I’ll give it to you
I’ll beat the shit out of you with a baseball bat
Or a divorce
Or an addiction
Or a woman, a father, depression, abuse, a pregnancy, a disease, injury, anger
Whatever you want. Whatever it takes for you to change.
You’ll pray the blows on your own self.
And I’ll deliver them, wincing.
That’s what you wanted.
You’ll pop out the other side of hell,
And find me.
You’ll be who you wanted, and I will have made you that
The Mother’s Milk
The Mother is near
Indeed, she is here.
Sopping up the pain of man
She breathes into your feet
With dirt and leaves and sand.
Science says it’s a magnetic force
Either way, from it we’ve made a grand divorce.
The Mother is near
She pulses in the palms, the willows, the pines
Indeed she is here
Our hearts and minds, through nature she refines
Talking to your skin, calming your heart when the clouds fail to part
But I have seen the Mother!
In the transparency of leaves
On the bark creeping up the trees
We mustn’t speak too loudly of her
The unknown breeds fear to be sure.
Suits remain silent, our hearts grow violent
Thirsting for a taste of mother’s milk.