The Making Of A Serial Killer

The top of the box reads
“Lift here to open”,
The opposable thumb slides
Under the tab,
Breaks the seal,
Tears the tab away
Without opening the box,
Hands rip
At the box top,
Getting to the meat of the issue,
Grabbing and tearing
At the titanium strength cellophane
Which does not yield
The spilling of its guts,
Kitchen drawer flies open,
Butcher knife
Slices the fingers that wrap
Around the blade,
Blood flies as the blade
Stabs and stabs,
The gut is ripped open,
Its contents splatter against the wall,
This isn’t the first time
This has happened.

Elegy For Tom Bowen

Psalm 39:11

When with rebukes you correct man for iniquity,
You make his beauty melt away like a moth;
Surely everyman is vapor.
Selah


Elegy For Tom Bowen


We watched him melt away into vapor,
Like a moth at the window
Here and then gone,
For transgression and iniquity
Fueled his latter days,
Even so he is still a sojourner,
Though he walks about like a shadow
Though he keeps from speaking
Even the truth,
Still he always walked in a certain light,
A light no one but him could see
Or understand,
He saw the beauty of a single snowflake,
Laughed at the owl caught in the grill
Of a ’56 Crown Vic,
Put on his Beatle boots
So he could chat up the next bird
That flew into town,
His heart beat hot within him
When he laughed and then became serious,
Feeling the fiery breath of God
Calling him to his journey,
Where were we when he eventually left us?
When we became strangers to him,
When we could not hear his silent tears,
When he finally took his gaze from us,
Went away,
And was no more?

The Year of White Clover

Psalm 78:24-25
Yet He commanded the skies above,
and opened the Doors of Heaven;
He rained down on them Manna to eat,
and gave them the Grain of Heaven,
Mortals ate of the Bread of Angels.

The Year Of White Clover

Every night the manna fell from Heaven,
We grazed on it during the day,
We slept on the white flowers,
The leaves were like a thick carpet,
The young slept near their mothers
While the Old Ones kept watch,
Watching for the manna to fall
From the ships
High above us,
The cool green glow of the lights
Illuminated the manna as it fell
From the Heavenly Vessels of Angels
Who sang us to sleep
On the cool green and white cushion of clover,
We fed upon it and it illuminated our bodies,
We became Children of Light
Lifting our hands and voices skyward,
Basking in the verdant radiance
Until the ships went away
Leaving us in wonder.

The Year Of White Clover