Oct. 31st

___________

However you look at it
Autumn’s ghost is
Passing with flying colors,
Pinning down Winter’s
Young to the mortal earth.

Harvested field lies naked
And fallow, welcoming its Sabbaths
Like the ancient Holy
Land, tainted with the blood
Of the exiles as they
Watched the land betray.
Eyes ever open, hands
Ever clutched, the pilgrims rode their
Nightmare into the dark heart of Babylon
.


--October 30, 2009--
© 2009 vagrant moon

Recovering Catholic

________________________

I will likely go to Mass Saturday.

Today,

I will likely cross myself those
Three times when no one is
Looking,

Kneel behind the
Silent blinds like I’m bowing
Before a great king in this
Townhouse.

I am not pleased with myself.
Not pleased with anything really.
I plan to confess this to a priest,

The next time I stare myself in the

Mirror.

My penance: life itself.


--Oct. 23, 2009—
© 2009 vagrant moon

The Burden of

_________________

The proof is in the
Pudding.

Not the plate.

The birds of the air
Sing this song as
I rise this morning.

They never cease.
They do not grieve,
Do not grumble.

It’s not about finding
The worm, it’s not
About being early.

Sow.
Reap.
Gather.

Toil.
Spin.
Toil.

Spin.

It’s not about this.
My mouth births
Small cloud in this

Winter.

This is a miracle.
God-breathed.
This is what I am.

No need to

Spin.
Toil.
Spin.

God is the pudding.

--Oct. 25, 2009--
© 2009 vagrant moon