Missing Church Again

Today, no song, God, repentance
ringing as words flute up through rafters.

What remains: a bird feeder heavy
with seed, like a soon-to-be

mother swaying. And finches,
cardinals, away from heaven,

as black seeds slide down their throats.
Nothing survives

this world without faith,
without rising out of oneself

into the dream of shared need.
It’s because I’m done kneeling

that I walk beneath the sky’s blue
vein as the pulse of my own

sadness …

More In: Poetry

Pandemic Playtime #1 | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Pandemic Playtime #1

Because my daughter is afraid. Because she checks
and double-checks the doors, the windows, the ones
even that hang thirty feet above the ground. Because
there might be a person, …

Break Room | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Break Room

Walls, once milk-white, now scalded from the flame

of years, a broken black line from folding chairs

leaned back, scuffing paint. You can tell

full-timers—propped-up feet, the way they sit

on brocade cushions …

Yellow Wallpaper Resident Alien | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Yellow Wallpaper Resident Alien

Tie my shoes, my self-portrait running for fun

in the deep woods, poisoned with the soot

of another forest fire in the distance, another Oregon
 

I didn’t know how to spell the …

Guns on TV | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Guns on TV

I like guns in TV shows.
The guns on TV shows are just like guns,
Like the people shooting other people
On TV shows are just like people.

I like …

WWW | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

WWW

In childhood, you thought that the world

could be had: consumed like cut-up melon.

 

Looking at the map curling up the classroom wall—

its gradient landmasses and oceans—

 

you thought, what sort of …