Before they are born,

From beams of light and heat,

And the tramping feet,

Of Israel’s slaving.

This is the great hollow
Which consumes all beyond
No use feeling sorrow
The decay takes that too

Aurora my words wove round you
Trapped in your repose
And destroyed the truth, your suitor
And your heart beat on unfroze
And now you sleep in sunlight
Your skin never warms
Like an empty page in your novel
In which meaningless words swarm

And this is the great hollow
Which surrounds all, imbibes
Sucking in your tomorrow
Cutting in your strides

Aurora temptation struck me
To visit you again
My eyes fell on your image
And you stunk worse than sin
And I have come to despise you
Who was once my sole desire
The brambles of time may curse you
And be cleared out by fire

This is the great hollow
In which all truth resides
The menacing torrent of borrowed
Fame from morning’s tide
This is the great hollow
So go throw yourself in
I’ll make no farce sorrow
Into the adder’s den

I’m in space, I’m in space, I’m in space
The comets are wraiths, bringing fire in their wake, to lay waste
And gravity’s absence wakes me as I fall
Through an endless pillow top
I sleep as a thrall
To my life support humming
As my vital stats waltz
The void exhales

I’m in space, I’m in space, I’m in space
Tin man, glass face, Radiation-safe plastic case
And I sleep for years, each day is an age
Nightmares of earth awake me
To thaw at transit’s end
My cryotank expels me
And waking sick begins
And this ends

We round each other

Side to side

Again and again and again

We circle a sphere

On the galaxy’s tides

Again and again and again

We lose we win and we grin

Again and again and again

And again

Again and again and again

We flail in sequence

And fall laughing

Again and again and again

We search for truth

And come up missing

Again and again and again

We dig deeper in sands of sin

Again and again and again

And again

Again and again and again

Gravity is in my chest

And it’s beatin’

Again and again and again

Each beat is closer

To my leavin’

Again and again and again

We don’t think of death ‘til th’end

Again and again and again

And again

Again and again and again

This mortal friction

Is boring

Again and again and again

Is this one really

The thinking end

Again and again and again

My head can’t manage the spin

Again and again and again; And again

not in

Egypt,

boys, nor

Goshen,

land of

father’s

latter

sojourn—

but plant

me deep

in ground

the Lord

himself

has named

for one

who brawled

with him

till dawn—

case me

not in

coffin

wood, so

even

tongueless

I will

taste the

blood of

Canaan,

to be

spilt by

Yahweh

in his

fury

for the

rising

of the

day of

one whose

beard will

drip with

fragrant

oil from

God’s own

horn of

choosing—

(2009)

My teacher

Welps will help

Recall

The heady draughts

Of sacred fire

Burning down

Like tracts

Through my arm

Helped by the scourge

of Divine harm

he’d have been sixty-five this year

(same as my father,

his childhood best friend,

who did not make it to sixty-five either,

on account of cancer).

But his car went off a bridge in Clio, Alabama,

and he drowned at sixteen.

His mother always suspected foul play.

My sins, their boots thumping strong
My soul, like carpet, old, with worn
Path down center as tread
And guilt like a gut full of lead
Repentance lies stillborn

Will God’s own hand improve
Its force to nudge this sinful mule
Further down the path thin?
Or does his Spirit not contend
Anymore with a fool?

Methinks that we grow tired of grace
The more that we dine
We long for stranger meat and fare
We tire of sun and freshened air
We trade the sweet for the rind

And even the bitterness dulls
Of sin that we endure
And one long drudgery it becomes
To even fill your stomach’s rungs
And all things taste impure

Until the night is a red haze
And day too dimly seen
And all noises hum like bees
And warmth won’t thaw the freeze
Of your black heart’s thumping

We crave the salt of the tear
When altar horns are gripped
And sorrow’s cheer is never felt
And we who knew with whom we dwelt
Never knew how far we slipped

And for the heart to feel a sting
Like wine swirled in a grail
And the crack of broken bread
The pain of thorns upon Christ’s head
The whipping of the flail

And for a soul too sick to feel
Or wince in sympathy’s behalf
I pray the prey of my regret
Won’t slip the throw of heaven’s net
Nor exceed the stab of its gaff

Posted in Josh Manning ]]> http://chipolariverpoetry.wordpress.com/2008/12/23/using-a-different-structure/feed/ 0 jpmanning