The Sailor

 

There is a dark, black spot

somewhere inside me. It is

smaller now than it was last

spring, it is the colon I was

speaking about in some

other book.

 

I am a sailor now, with

a log that I keep.

My cabin is small but I

know where things are,

All my lovers are ashore,

specially the ones I still love.

 

Maybe I’ll move to the tune

of a wind, and finally

make peace with my solitude.

 

Maybe I’ll let up for an

afternoon, the sun beaming all

over my body.

 

It is important to tend to that

little black spot, even when

it doesn’t appear to be growing.

The X rays showed it up last

night and this morning I am

reminded.

 

I am running now, up Signal Hill,

and the champion in me knows he

has won. But in a couple hours

I will descend again to the

town where I sleep.

 

Maybe I’ll move to the tune of a wind

and finally be at ease with my solitude.

 

Maybe I’ll let up for an evening and feel

the music enter me as the record spins.

 

 

First Published in New Contrast, 61. 2013. 

 

 

 

 

 

On God

 

I have a friend named X

who said he saw God.

I asked him,

"What does God look like?"

and he said,

"God doesn't have a face."

so I said,

"So then how do you recognize him?"

and he said,

"Who else do you know who doesn't have a face?"

and I said nothing.

 

 

 

First published in The Sometimes, "Exhibition of Texts", 2012.