sacrament

My package arrived today

from Amazon. I will discuss

much later how the expectations

of contents can be imagined.

How my Grandma, married to

the same man for 43 year,

sprinkled grits into the boiling

froth of salt, with the same thin

arm.

(I swear to you that this is what I

thought). They found an unattended

briefcase on the city bench next to

the iron fist they called art, then

called in the authorities who

detonated the left over Yetcamein soup

and almond chicken to a million

tiny bits.

And that's what i'm trying to say:

That one needs to know the azimuth of all things.

That each fixed point of the horizon,

each snow flake and

every grain of grit

has a clockwise navigational pull. And it

doesn't hurt to know a little astronomy

when the snob in you

gets thick and hot and

when love shows up at your

door unannounced; dragging behind it

a blistered moon

thru that  buttered,

meritorious puddle.

Reviews

[Ken Simm.]

I don't know, cannot think, how you do it. How you bring together these apparently disparate elements and bring forth art. It is almost found object art. You take the driftwood of your life and glue it together to make this, (the only word for it is) sculpture of feelings, emotions, observations and deliberations. The glue of course is your intellect. And the developing of it is your perception. These are true intelligence at work applying themselves to the fundamentals of creativity.

[Beccy]

The compass, whilst a most reliable instrument, copes poorly, as we do, with turbulence and whether or not we think we know the azimuth, (and constancy,) of all things, it's those unaccountable swings that always catch us out.

In admiration. Beccy.

[CD Campbell]

I like this, but I don't like grits and grits seem to attach themselves to everything. They don't wipe off the table that easily. How is it that I can see "buttered" and think battered, but applaud you that you can put "buttered" in a line.? Astronomy, azimuth, and almond chicken. Dana, the artful mix up in the language reminds me of when I start acting like a dick around someone I don't know expecting them to be below or on the same level, (we all do it), and get hit in the back of the head with my own ignorance. Your style is to be admired. CD

[Emily B]

I need a little of your wisdom and beauty today. Blessings, dear heart

[W.k.kortas]

It's a very interesting title, as I find this to be a bit of a sermonette, especially in the final dozen lines or so--but brought to us softly, in the side door, not brought to us all hellfire like in the tiny backwoods shotgun-shack type of churches. More like what Bill Cosby warned us about on Saturday morning back in the day, how we'd learn something if we weren't careful, and that is all throughout your work and especially here. Hey, hey, hey.

[writing mojo]

Spin cycles...circle of life,trunks rings to wedding bands or the toilet cool on the bottom after being kicked after a day of long hard work..the center the collective you as third person persona takes a s**t.. this is pull well in your discovery through the art of suspicion as the heir of laundry now cleaned and pressed is compartmental...from where it once bunched at the knees...awesome piece

[Alex Boyd]

I like your imagery and if I may comparison of the many things that can define love... It is a lovely poem that makes the reader understand that the little things in life can birth a true meaning of love... Well written too...