Wednesday, November 24, 2010


Whistle me back to where
so I can do there
all was left undone
here there is not enough sun
to spare
nor thunder that rolls
down the stairs of the sky

I would wake like this I would
cane myself to the table
I would
begin and end in one long breath
long to get it said
and brief to listen
and cane myself back to bed

If I could sing Motherless Child
or Nobody Knows
the Trouble I’ve Seen
or Wayfaring Stranger
or even Amazing Grace,
I do them better than anything,
I would

Sometimes I feel
like nobody knows but Jesus
travelin through this world below
and when we’ve been there
ten thousand years
bright shining as the sun
a long, long way from home

I will look through
not with
the eye, that’s how to see
said the papa of poetry
to the mama of grace
and she replied,
Listen to the sweet bells peal

(24 October 2010)

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