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"narthex" poems
First glance, I’m a good Christian girl. But dark purple flecks decorate my neck. In leather and lace I forget to pray and let you do what you want with me because pain is complex and melded with pleasure. Do you know what they say about girls that enjoy *** They never dare to say it to my face but I can feel them staring from the pew at the dark purple flecks that decorate my neck. Your hands, more powerful than God, make the earth of my body quake while I draw fault lines down your back with my nails under the broken crucifix above your bed. The pain is complex and melded with pleasure. Deep, growling voice shakes the dusty rosary on your nightstand when we **** Your handprints are left on my flesh and the hand around my throat leaves the dark purple flecks decorating my neck. Coffee in the narthex and I’m labeled a harlot. Sinner. Sacrilegious. Branded as freaks… Brush it off. I know what you like and how you like me. God will have mercy. Sensations blend because pain is complex and melded with pleasure and I can’t have one without the other. To reach our peak you leave me red, marked and breathless, gasping, “Oh my God.” Questioning my beliefs with dark purple flecks to decorate my neck, I know pain will always be complex and melded with pleasure.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Modern Morals
a confessional screen chambered in opaques                         the pearly gates would sport checkers sovereignty with grime between myself                and the other side of this poem another acolyte had founted              from our species-widened narthex-maw                               the answer to the test                                     the answer i have tested since despite the veto of a roshi's sleeve while adults justify in frowns and threats commandment-etched i am a child still            aghast at drawing lines in sand to mark the living                                            from the soon to die one i knew who drew such lines                                                for whom a line was drawn to mark himself as well not just in votes and homeland hate-speech you see he crossed the line                         no unadulterated childhood can cross he shot  his  own  face                               or at least his face was shot                 when he was found who can read the final lonely moments of another                                                  when mistakes are easier than ownmost acts ? bombing bullies politicking death                  can sanctify the safe unpunctuated traps                      dividing moods in swallows pills swilled with undigested fear                                    of nozzled death mercilessly sudden .
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Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
ideologies from warring states at peace
a confessional screen chambered in opaques                         the pearly gates would sport checkers sovereignty with grime between myself                and the other side of this poem another acolyte had founted              from our species-widened narthex-maw                               the answer to the test                                     the answer i have tested since despite the veto of a roshi's sleeve while adults justify in frowns and threats commandment-etched i am a child still            aghast at drawing lines in sand to mark the living                                            from the soon to die one i knew who drew such lines                                                for whom a line was drawn to mark himself as well not just in votes and homeland hate-speech you see he crossed the line                         no unadulterated childhood can cross he shot  his  own  face                               or at least his face was shot                 when he was found who can read the final lonely moments of another                                                  when mistakes are easier than ownmost acts ? bombing bullies politicking death                  can sanctify the safe unpunctuated traps                      dividing moods in swallows pills swilled with undigested fear                                    of nozzled death mercilessly sudden .
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36
i would cry out, give voice my wild rage if that would loose the bonds, arrest her plight but cowardice sustains a safer silence long imbued complacency of guilt --ensconced escapist narthex ease and shade-- i do not speak the secret all avoid when speaking it condemns me to a pretense loathe of self the ears that hear and do not hear deep cloister  of a falsely sacred quest to give into the hands encompassing us all which hand it down again, below a conscience as above removed, vacant as her eyes
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
bearing witness
the narthex; with its shattered stained glass a beautiful epicenter
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
ground zero
There is something about churches— the sanctuary filling slowly, brass ***** pipes arrayed like halberds in a medieval arsenal, stooped ushers handing out programs as the congregation accumulates softly like snow. And the pulpit—like a queen in a hive of wooden pews all of polished walnut, stands hushed and expectant. (I know within that pulpit there is a place to put cough drops, a legal pad, second pair of glasses.) Sanctuaries have a peculiar smell, redolent of potted lilies, Youth Dew perfume, aging hymnals, the suspired breath of five hundred faithful lifting their voices to that soaring Byzantine dome. I was glad for your presence that day, the sound of your marvelous voice, the warm sense of your shoulder next to mine. You cradled a hymnal benevolently in your hand as though you were baptizing a child. "Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!" I sang more loudly, I suppose, for gratitude that you were with me. I held my hymnal with more care, sang and looked up more hopefully to that pulpit than I might otherwise have done on any given Easter. I prayed more ardently for good things to happen, thought more kindly of the man beside me who wouldn’t make room when we three entered the pew but stared blandly ahead as if waiting for an opera to begin. When the minister spread his arms in benediction and bade us all go in peace, we stayed to hear the postlude and watch the Easter crowd wind its way to the narthex and spill out into the boisterous parade on Fifth Avenue. I sat there and listened with you as the organist played his sonorous farewell. When I was a boy sitting next to you in church, you might gently pat my thigh when the organist’s final note passed through the sanctuary like a great bird in flight. You would smile as if to say, “You made it through the whole service!” On this Easter, when the hymn began, and the mighty ***** notes swelled around us like God’s own voice in song, it was the thought of your shoulder near mine, your hands upon the pew, that halted my singing for a moment, to let a silent bolt of longing pass through me like a solitary dog crossing a road. Then it was gone, the thought, but so, too, was your palpable nearness, the idea of your voice ringing through the church like a celebration.
0
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Easter, 2017
There is something about churches— the sanctuary filling slowly, brass ***** pipes arrayed like halberds in a medieval arsenal, stooped ushers handing out programs as the congregation accumulates softly like snow. And the pulpit—like a queen in a hive of wooden pews all of polished walnut, stands hushed and expectant. (I know within that pulpit there is a place to put cough drops, a legal pad, second pair of glasses.) Sanctuaries have a peculiar smell, redolent of potted lilies, Youth Dew perfume, aging hymnals, the suspired breath of five hundred faithful lifting their voices to that soaring Byzantine dome. I was glad for your presence that day, the sound of your marvelous voice, the warm sense of your shoulder next to mine. You cradled a hymnal benevolently in your hand as though you were baptizing a child. "Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!" I sang more loudly, I suppose, for gratitude that you were with me. I held my hymnal with more care, sang and looked up more hopefully to that pulpit than I might otherwise have done on any given Easter. I prayed more ardently for good things to happen, thought more kindly of the man beside me who wouldn’t make room when we three entered the pew but stared blandly ahead as if waiting for an opera to begin. When the minister spread his arms in benediction and bade us all go in peace, we stayed to hear the postlude and watch the Easter crowd wind its way to the narthex and spill out into the boisterous parade on Fifth Avenue. I sat there and listened with you as the organist played his sonorous farewell. When I was a boy sitting next to you in church, you might gently pat my thigh when the organist’s final note passed through the sanctuary like a great bird in flight. You would smile as if to say, “You made it through the whole service!” On this Easter, when the hymn began, and the mighty ***** notes swelled around us like God’s own voice in song, it was the thought of your shoulder near mine, your hands upon the pew, that halted my singing for a moment, to let a silent bolt of longing pass through me like a solitary dog crossing a road. Then it was gone, the thought, but so, too, was your palpable nearness, the idea of your voice ringing through the church like a celebration.
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73
Palm Sunday in Egypt 9 April 2017 Revelation 20:4 Poor bleeding Egypt, Mother of martyrs Whose sands receive the gift of sacred blood Almost without an end: the Apostle Mark, Saint Katherine, and even on this day: A child in the narthex scampering about Although his mother told him to behave A man waiting for a friend, passers-by Someone hoping that the sermon is short O may they now with Christ enter into Golden Jerusalem, now and forever
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Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 7:27 AM UTC
Palm Sunday in Egypt
Thine fligertoch froznen ech Cucenkis chenches n xylomec, The shlipless splood Upon thy frosh, With deutromic flide and fligertosh! O durgling narthex And dushi dift, Of birken shlip - Those liqulor cractles! Jugnot (that ye be not jugged), Boxinuts of bumten quaggles.
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Marcellawocky
Between the lychgate and narthex lay a limbo approaching communion, where one can linger at the border, sitting in the margin with enough of a toe hold on tentative worship, while insulated from the assembled fervour. And Arthur prayed alone: conversant with his God, but wary of the draw of the warmth within and the risks associated with human contact.
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Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 12:44 PM UTC
Between the lychgate and narthex
“We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner,                   and the *** the master’s crib….’”                    -Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas The ox and *** are in the Stable set In service divine, as good Isaiah writes A congregation of God’s creatures met In honor of their King this Night of nights And there they wait for us, for we are late Breathless in the narthex of eternity A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate Have led us to this holy liturgy Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet The ox and *** are in the Stable set
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Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
Christmas - But the Animals were First
“And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes” -Chaucer Everyone is a palmer this holy day Seeking the strange, elusive shores of truth Each pilgrim bearing in his eager hands A palm frond and a photocopied hymn The pilgrimage begins in the parking lot And marshaled by the blue HANDICAPPED signs Ascends to the doors, the narthex, and in, Up to the Altar, there where all worlds meet Come to Jerusalem; you’re on the way - Everyone is a palmer this holy day
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Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
The Adventure Begins Over There by Mr. Gomez’ Pickup Truck
Labyrinths and crypts of cold stone Ever shifting and strange Led me to that forgotten chapel I stepped inside its narthex Distant and remote A place only dreams might reach It was always night there In the sanctums of that place Every trespass palpable Yet the darkness was not consuming It seemed stagnant and moribund Weaving vainly around the pillars and pews Stripped of the fear that darkness brings It lulled about aimlessly Trapped within those rotless walls Waiting for the return of the light
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Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
The Church of Ink Black Sins
But the Animals were First “We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner, and the *** the master’s crib….’” -Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas The ox and *** are in the Stable set In service divine, as good Isaiah writes A congregation of God’s creatures met In honor of their King this Night of nights And there they wait for us, for we are late Breathless in the narthex of eternity A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate Have led us to this holy liturgy: Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet The ox and *** are in the Stable set
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Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
But the Animals were First
But the Animals were First “We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner, and the *** the master’s crib….’” -Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas The ox and *** are in the Stable set In service divine, as good Isaiah writes A congregation of God’s creatures met In honor of their King this Night of nights And there they wait for us, for we are late Breathless in the narthex of eternity A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate Have led us to this holy liturgy Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet The ox and *** are in the Stable set
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Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
But the Animals were First