My sweetheart is a man's man heiress
Her man must be a carbon copy of Jupiter, her father,
An alpha, a beta, a kappa, an omega male altogether
A carpenter by trade,
The epitome of masculinity
Who could solve any math problem in a second
And knew how to fix everything
A car, electric, plumbing
A family hero, a handy man
Who built houses from the ground up
He could swaddle a baby's nightmare properly
Open doors to the winds of sadness
And pull chairs to the lights of happiness
And he could dress every day to the nines
Infusing in her heiress forever wine 's bouquet
And the love of animals.
My sweetheart is an animal 's animal heiress
She eats meat only if it has a label on it
Saying that animals are not caged
Or mistreated in anyway.
Shepherds, cobblers, carpenters and joiners of all creeds and worldly dreamers
You troubled souls, the brittle spirits drinking spirits cleaner
Taunted workers of yore, farmers gone and industries endowed
Disseminating futures, who's gonna build your ***** barrels now?
**** it, I'm going to work in a call center
Continuing clearing my notebooks. I think this one was supposed to be inspired by the death of coal industry and other types of jobs going extinct, but I am not sure anymore.
If she wasn’t hooked on honey
she would fall down on my page
I rescued a blue-winged bee sage
I hope she’ll enjoy her stay
in my human home
She strains her abdomen
I pray it’s not a bad omen
her Hermes powers at rest
Did she leave her nest in earnest
I found her on lonely gray stairs
I pray she heals from her despairs
as the carpenter bee sleeps dangled
To my honey lathered chopsticks
I admire her frail black body
I gently blow on her she’s inside
my heart. I felt hers when she
Gripped my thumb.
March 13, 2018
I found a carpenter bee on my way to work and she hadn't moved when I walked up to her a couple of hours later. I took her home and I'm nursing her.
we brush her hair
then we watch her dance
dance with me she says
her gumball breath
moon light washed us
we were beamed up
here we are
reflecting stars light
she sings to me
she lets me sleep
of her dreams
she is beautiful
wrote after reading
once i was once told
by a man, that i could do great things
if i would stay an upright woman and
keep my eyes on the ground
and i, as a young one,
stood up straight,
like a woman would
and had my curves sanded down,
like a woman should
for, "temptations are the Devil's Woods"
and with my eyes on the ground,
I watched my particles catch light and
settle on the basement floor like dust ............
from whence We came, and without a sound
The Carpenter whittled
tiny spikes into my sides
until it was unsafe to be near me,
because i had too many points
set for life in a window of this outdated shop
i always wondered what it would be like to see the sea shore
i ask, He never answers straight, all that matters is i'm pure
He also says to be holy you cannot be selfish or a coward
but He never lets me close, and didn't even sculpt me
so i waited until His nose was deep
in the latest draft of His autobiography
until He nodded off, fast asleep
i lunged at His face
he screeched something about His never-ending Grace
then, i escaped
well... what wood any other woman do?
From my window I see
I face a long day
heaving heavy boards,
my brittle back,
with a clear heart.
Carpenter, carpenter, what do you say?
Cut wood all day,
bring home the pay:
a pocketful of sawdust.
With strange joy
I can't wait
Carpenter still had
Splinters in His hands while
Crucified to wood
He was delivered over to death for our sins, and was raised to life for our justification.
Romans 4:25 NIV
For God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten son that all who believe on Him should not perish but have everlasting life.
"I'm full of holes and sinking fast," she said as she told me she needed new faces and a fresh start. She thought what we had between us was irreparable, and by human standards she was right.
In my naiveté, I tried to patch and fill them with imperfect hands and carnal substance.
With temporal eyes, we couldn't see that the many "holes" she thought she had was just a single void, and I was trying to do the job of the Carpenter.
"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich."
- 2 Corinthians 8:9
After scary sickness, weeks in bed,
today I’m better.
Head clear. Body hollow, sixteen
pounds shed in sweat and snot.
So I call Dial-A-Lawyer,
write a will by phone.
Drive to the city, Social Security
to register my daughter
who is unknown by the state,
born at home
one year to this date.
Bring her along as proof.
Plan a death and record a birth.
My beloved bakes a cake. One candle.
I’m still a bit shaky. Can’t rest.
Where’s my tool belt?
It’s time to build toys. A wagon.
A house. Soon.
A life for this daughter.
first published in *Snapdragon*
Scent of sap,
taste of tannin,
tickle of fine grit,
after rehab pain,
through every portal
you awaken my brain.
Powder of sun ray,
powder of fog’s drip,
powder of soil ******
through roots to the sky,
hot breath of the forest
you complete my healing.
Such a feeling!
Sing to me the rhythm of craft.
Guide my fingers, the work will flow.
First published in *Snapdragon*