On Religion

Oh, God is smiling down on ME,
but as for YOU, we’ll have to see.


:::fly back::: (partial song lyrics)

Little Bird, fly back to bed.
Mama’s got a whisky head.
Close your eyes, then count to three,
dream a little dream for me.

Little Bird, fly back to bed.
Don’t you know the day is dead?
Hold your doll and squeeze her tight,
I’ll find you in the morning light.

“Little Bird, fly back to bed,”
Mama’s voice quite softly said.
But bellies cry for bits of bread;
they won’t sleep until their fed.

all thoughts and traces

Living is the daily removal of dust
from various places
and beloved faces,
tending to years as if
we could hold them within
our ever-shrinking hands.

Fingers fold, hardening into
shepherd’s crooks.

Wiping away time becomes
tedious, more trouble than it’s worth,
in a season when keeping one’s eyes
open can be a tremendous struggle.

various places
beloved faces
leave them alone
all thoughts and traces