RodWords

Selections From 

RODDITIES 

April 2001 to September 2006

TO THE OLIVE

Black, shiny, polished, round

Sir Olive,

you give the salad eyes.

You stomach a pit

in the

pit of your stomach.

God puts in what

we spit out.

GLUE

Liquid searching

the surfaces,

lock-drying to the

imprisoning

grip.

         FIZZ

Beachwaves

foam, sparkle and splash

Rising, cresting, exploding

in turbulence,

then spreading

satin-smooth

in a glistening layer

of clear-water fizz.

Beachwaves roll

into the shore,

again, again, again,

like tympani and cymbal crash:

a symphony of faithfulness.

         LIGHT

In love with Light

I AM.

Dazzling, dappled, sprinkled, sparkling,

Ablaze!

Or spun all frosty on a spider's net

or a pinpoint glisten, diamond-set,

in dewdrop ice...

Or white-hot fence frosting,

a long silver lace on the lattice.

Tinting the sunset: reddish pink.

Warming the sunrise: golden yellow.

LIGHT!

Sweeping out shadows,

Flooding down tunnels,

Blasting into gloom-gutters,

Burning with brilliance from

from a fireball sun,

imprinting green after-spots

inside lidded eyes...

A wash, a spray,

a star-stream waterfall splash

cascading to Earth

from the Father of Lights:

PERFECT BRIGHTNESS:

In Him is Light.

No shadow of turning.

No darkness

At all.

Candleflame

Eternal.

Ka-Splatt!

Splat! 

There's that.

Another day

another date

another work-week.

Ka-Ching!

Spend a dollar

Save a dollar

Find a penny on the street.

Be-Beep! Alarm sounds

Va-Room! Car starts

Fa-Flump! Head down on pillow

and fall down into 

the night.

Biddle-e-Beep!

Up and Up

and up again,

here's morning

so bright.

Crack the eggs,

Ka-Splatt!

Once again

good morning

Once again

good night.

        Wonder Under

Time on the cliff

overlooking valleys,

past, present, future

Over all:

the gleam of the golden rail

     the cry of the eagle

dirt below feet,

blue-streak sky over head.

I wonder

under Majesty.

         Shiny In Saliva

The coin in the mouth of the fish.

Perfect timing

Perfect placement

Perfect purpose

All the things they needed

to do what they needed to do.

Lord, when you need me,

Part the fish lips, open the day

and, shiny in saliva,

I'll be there!

(Matthew 17:24-27)

Building a puppet named Stickery D. Weed

GOOD FRIDAY

         HORROR IN HEAVEN

        Angels will not speak of it.

        the storm that shook Earth and Heaven.

the dagger plunging into the heart of the universe.

Roaring, ripping, the curtains that tore eternity in half

forever sliced open to horrible daylight.

The day when blood flowed red 

down the streets of gold

and FatherLord watched the cross,

His heart crushed by nightfall, engulfed in flame,

Lost in the terrible abyss...

HOLY SATURDAY

SHROUD

In white,

blanketed

laid out

on gray, cold

under-stone,

Jesus,

You are

enshrouded.

A hundred billion

angels wait outside

the tomb,

their fingers

almost 

touching

the ice-rock

that covers

the entrance.

Meanwhile,

down in

the red-roaring

fires of

hell, Your

teeth

are

clenched 

in

victory.

RESURRECTION SUNDAY

         THE FALL, THE RISE

The structures of sin

collapse in thunder and lightning.

Castles, caves, fortresses,

keeps and palaces

crumble as splintered match-sticks

swirling in tornadoes

of joy.

Doom-deathlings fall

to their bone-broken knees,

demons shrivel, skeletal ash,

raisins in blazes.

Evil blueprints writhe

enveloped in holy flames, a

Devil drops to the dirt

scratching his eyes out.

All monstrosities of

rebellion crash to

the ground in a dead-whump

gravity-thud.

As if from the rubble,

ONE is rising,

Upwards, ONE,

rising

in glory.

         Old Dogs, New Tricks

Ray, Ray, goes away

Comes again another day.

His voice, encloud,

More soft than loud,

Pipes a bone-flute to the crowd.

Mummies spin their stripes and dance,

Rockets roar red flame's romance.

Hopkins, Poe, electric buzz,

Type what's now, then see what was.

Throw up mornings, clean up noons,

Throw paper airplanes to the Moon.

Leap from cliffs in spite of ground,

Build your wings on the way down.

Like running footprints in the snow,

Let characters show the way to go.

Gold-eyed Martians play dandelion drums,

Something splendid this way comes!

CD cover for a collection of classic electronic music

featuring Carlos, Subotnick, Kraftwerk, and others.

         I'm Losing... What Was It? Oh, Yeah. My Memory.

The books of memory are sliding back,

In shelves of deepening gray.

I reach for thought, for word, for name,

Only to find: it's slipped away.

         WRINKLE | WINK | WIN

Wrink.

When I wink, or

merely think,

my thinkle turns to wrinkle.

Spots, silver fur, new-bumps, scars,

folds n' flaps of 

unbeautiful skin.

Who let you in?

Hair migration:

leaving localities,

arriving in canalities.

And in my back:

the gravity-monster:

Slouch.

Or this illusion: I feel

I am aging alone. 

Not true McGoo!

Everyone is joining me.

But

Upturn my

wrinkle to a grin?

I win!

DIRT

When I feel like dirt,

Here You are, 

Calling me a garden.

A garden in Spring,

fresh water,

streams flowing...

         YOU, BROKEN, FIXING ME

You, broken, fixing us.

You, bruised, healing us.

You, dying, birthing us.

Torn and pierced, one day on Earth

To mend the world forever.

You, turning, to see Peter by the fire,

At the same time

You, looking over his shoulder,

Beyond grapevines and olive trees and star-splattered nights,

Through billions of pages of history-to-come

to see me,

Living for nothing, consumed in self, while

You, dying, losing everything, live,

Consumed in rescuing me,

Yesterday, today and forever.