Uber

Want to get a workout? Order Uber in your PJs.

Learning ins and outs

Of Uber.

I had heard

It did not work

Where I live.

Apparently it does.

I was trying it out

In my pajamas

Car arriving in seven minutes

It said.

Car arriving

In five minutes

I did not want a car

To arrive.

Destination?

Destination?

Destination?

Cancel ride

Cancel ride

Cancel ride

I am now more awake

Than I ever was.

Fresh kitten eyes

The world of the kitten is ever new.

The Christmas tree

Is down.

It has found its home

In the basement.

The living room

Is as it was

Mid-December.

The kitten has found

New things to climb,

New things

To knock to the floor,

New things

To watch

Out the window.

The life of a kitten

Is ever-changing,

Always new.

She offers

Fresh kitten eyes

On the world.

Bishop dreams

Remembering and reclaiming chutzpah.

In my dreams

Pieces of the past

Make themselves present,

Weave new stories.

One of my first bishops

Arrives for Thanksgiving dinner.

I introduce him

To the family.

He praises the seasoning

On the filet mignon.

Awake

I tell stories

Real stories

Non-dreamed stories

To my beloved

Of this bishop

How I redefined the rules,

How he let me

Redefine the rules

So I could vote at Convention:

Me

A priest in my late twenties..

I had chutzpah then.

I guess that’s where

It came from.

Melt line

I am glad for signs of spring, an end to winter.

It sort of snowed

Last night.

This morning

Where the sun is

The snow isn’t.

The melt line says:

It’s more spring

Than winter now.

The robins have arrived.

The juncos will soon

Be on their way north.

I saw a goldfinch

At the thistle seed sock.

In the sun

He has begun

To gleam

Only a hint

But it’s there.

The melt line:

White on one side,

Green on the other,

Says

It’s more spring

Than winter.

I see it.

I swear I do.

When I die

When I die

Whenever it is

However it is

I would like a service

Calling to mind

The Resurrection

And me

With it

And

In it.

When I die

I would like a party

In celebration of my life

Including the difficult bits.

We all have

Difficult bits.

When I die

I would like to become ashes

And spread

And scattered

And strewn

Somewhere the family

Deems fit

Where I can nourish

Nematodes

Prairie flowers

A scrub pine,

perhaps,

A black panther

Maybe even

A hawk.

When I die

I would like to be returned

To the earth.

When I die

I would like to see

What comes next.

Fishing for socks

Life with kitten. Always something new.

She fishes for socks

In the laundry basket

Adept

At pulling them out

Through the holes

One by one.

No matter how much

I squish them down

Her front legs have grown,

Her claws

Kitten-sharp

Find them

One by one.

We play

Fishing for socks

Until something else

Catches her attention.

To hear

Thank you, my friend (you know who you are), for the lovely green, bamboo imprinted batik with this quotation from Le Guin's Earthsea Trilogy. A worthy reminder.

To hear,

   one must be silent.

-Ursula Le Guin

I know this

Until I forget.

I am prone

To forgetting,

Until I remember again.

This seems the way

It goes:

Knowing

Forgetting

Only to remember again.

I build buffers of silence

So I can hear.

I stop speaking

So I can hear,

Maybe then

I speak.

If I remember.

Slots

I still think such a slot may exist. I'm not sure I'll ever stop looking.

This may come as no surprise

To those who have watched

But

I have never met a slot

Into which I fit.

I used to blame it

On my upbringing.

I used to think

Slicing off a corner here

An edge there

Would make it right.

I do not have enough corners.

My edges are fine

Thank you.

In fact

I prefer a slotless world.

I would help create

A world without slots,

With room,

With endless room,

To grow

Together.

Lo the rhubarb

Thank God for rhubarb.

Clouds and sun

Come and go

Or maybe it’s me

Opening

Closing

My eyes.

They may indeed

Be stationary.

The wind blows strong

Now it is quiet.

Perhaps it is me

Imagining spring

Hoping for summer

Thinking change

Is on the horizon.

Maybe change

Will blow in.

Lo the rhubarb

Holds true

Anchors the ground

Steadfast.

Another picture

Part two of the morning study of cats.

Not five minutes later

Grandfather cat is asleep

In the sun.

The kitten is silent

Watching the backyard

Tail curled

Under her paws.

They are not together

Rather

A whole room apart

But still

In the same room.

Picture

Does a leopard change its spots? Sometimes.

I thought

The kitten had succumbed

To the morning sunlight

She even smelled

Grandfather cat’s ear

And that

Was enough.

It looked as though

They would sleep

Together in the sun

What a picture

I thought

I should take a picture

I thought

I waxed poetic

About lions and lambs

Kittens growing up

Everyone sleeping together

In the sun.

Then

All hell broke loose.

Rhubarb people

No one is interested in heirloom rhubarb, if there is such a thing. Rhubarb is itself: Rhubarb. Those who like it: do. Those who don't: don't. It's a little like brussels sprouts... another thing the heirloom market has not caught on to. Good thing, I say.

I used to receive

Catalogs in the mail,

Now it is emails:

Heirloom seeds to grow:

Heirloom tomatoes

Miniature cucumbers

No one on my block

Has ever grown.

I have not planted a garden

In three years.

I leave it to the perennials

To show themselves

Or not;

The volunteer bee balm

That arrived

Last year.

The rhubarb comes up

Every year

Demands to be harvested,

Given away

To rhubarb people.

Rhubarb people

Are not easy to determine

They are the ones

Hidden under the rhubarb leaves.

When I harvest

There they are

Waiting.

A labyrinth is to walk

For my sister, Jane, building a circular labyrinth in the desert.

,

A labyrinth

Is to walk

Sometimes something comes

Sometimes

Something leaves

Sometimes nothing known

Happens.

Still

A labyrinth

Is to walk

To see what comes next.,

There is always a next.

There is always something

To leave behind

There is always something

Which begs,

Which pants like a dog

To be left in the center

Don’t worry

There is divine care

In that center

A labyrinth is to walk

First in

Then out,

On April 1

Best to stay home and pray for those in need. The list is growing. I'm not sure April Fools day will help. A hot cup of tea, maybe? A prayer for kind weather? A thought for the man in the grocery store yesterday, pushing his cart from the wrong end, stuck in front of the frozen foods? We inquired and he said he was thinking about his next steps. When we looked again, he was nowhere to be found. Not him. Not his cart filled with puffed cheese balls. We figured it was a Jesus sighting. Best to stay home today.

On April 1

Everything is suspect

Even this.