Postcard: A Love Note.

Hi friends.

I have not fallen off the face of the earth. I got a job at the local library… and am still at the coffee shop. and am not a real life tutor of english and writing. and if it is not apparent I have trouble turning down jobs and opportunities. So, accept my woeful appologie for being ghostly of late and enjoy this last of five postcards!

Keep writing and we will talk more about editing and squares soon! Much Love!

Poem 7 Revised

First and Seventh

To the pantry with irreverence I said:
Give us this day our daily bread
Then thinking of my mother, with daily
Sons and daughters; wines and waters
Regretted…

But… after a while, when
My body ate the body was
A body forsaking the body
I contemplated a diet of grape juice
And toast…

Nearly sufficient until reminded
That the symbolism is cannibalism
And sacrilege only matters on Sunday
So all week I can borrow holiness unless
–shit– it’s Sunday.

Some Sundays taste like bread and wine,
Others like bacon and eggs. I’m not
Apprehensive over divine stovetop intervention
When it comes to breakfast at three…

But maybe I should be.

 

Poem 7 EditedPoem 7 Original

Poem 7

First and Seventh
 
To the pantry with irreverence I said
Give us this day our daily bread
Then thinking of mothers with daily
Sons and daughters; wines and waters
Regretted…
 
But after a minute… when
My body ate the body was
The body forsaking the body I
Contemplated a diet of grape juice and
Toast…
 
Nearly the same until you remember
That the symbolism is cannibalism
And sacrilege only exists on Sunday
And all week I can borrow holiness unless
—shit—it’s Sunday…
 
Some Sundays taste like bread and wine
Others like bacon and eggs. I’m            
Not apprehensive over divine stovetop intervention
When it comes to breakfast at three…
 
But maybe I should be.