Search

Mississippi

Godless, but not gone.

Thoughtless and thankless but not wrong,

and down in Mississippi

I gave my song away,

Down below the line I drew

to keep myself at bay.

Somehow, less than two years later,

southern sawdust saw us blind

in a clearing in a sparser place

than ever I intended.

What a woman! What a night!

This thing that I defended

is godless, but not gone;

intelligent and radiant and strong,

enveloping the wooded skyline

with joyous shadows long

and lengthening.

Recent Posts

See All

for nicolle

We listened and we heard in the space between us, a small garden with many new things: curving meridians and underworlds and iridescent dreams, shoulders to chest like a liturgy. One is when we are to

Doubt

There are moments I remember that even the schools of crickets are multitudinous, and that waiting for the rain makes the sun too bright. I discover new shapes every day: green ones, gold ones, secret

Conversations

Conversations with Jesus on the front porch. So many worries. That's true, he says. Everything moving by things I can't see. But perhaps, he says, you can. And under it all? You'll remember, he says.