My Favourite Jesus Story

I like the Bible stories:

Jesus being born,

The straw, a big star,

Sheep watching, probably lambs licking his forehead,

more probably goats;

folks coming by. Presents.

That’s nice, but it’s the desert I like.

Forty days and Forty nights.

Wandering. But not wandering looking

at all the cool shit God created.

No, I don’t think so, and not just days,

Forty nights.

Sit-up sweaty anxious bad sleep nights.

Did he remember to thank the wise men:

really appreciate his mother; honestly Jesus?

that time with Paul, arrogant? the money lender thing:

all of it slithering out endlessly in the wilderness,

and listening hard to hear:

It’s ok, you’re good person.

Yeah I like to think he suffered.

Then walked out.

Who built these minds…

Jesus we suffer.

Tuesday Morning

I woke

this morning

listening to the rain

knocking on my roof

Gently, insistently,

tap tap taping

on the sky light, on the windows.

Perhaps my neighbours heard it

On their roof, at their door

While getting coffee, while watching news,

While praying

on a Tuesday morning in November

gently, insistently.

All over the city,

Up north, down south

Tap tap taping

Everybody listening to the rain.

All Day

All day I worked in a basement

All day I stretched my yellow tape

All day I laided down lines, blue, red and straight.

(All at 90… though some, needed a tweek)

All day I looked at walls to be, a bedroom, a kitchen, a home

All day I wrote short hand with my pen, DW CP FR

And All day I looked out the window … sometimes.

At lunch I sat in a chair, in the sun

And I had my phone all day

But I stopped, I put it down, so I could stop

because

All day I half listened to myself

And all day I listened to the radio

CBC

 all day

the morning in english, the afternoon in French,

(it’s just better that way).

After my all day I went to the store

And talked about doors and ratings and code

But not about clouds.

Who was looking at the clouds?

So,

 after all day in the basement with lines

And after all day at the store with doors

I looked at clouds, at their colour and shape,

The way they moved with the sun

 on their bottoms.

It seemed like my neck was pleased now

 looking up

instead of down

All day

Dog Poem #2

Two wolves are coming for you

along the stony beach

 a remote place, all loneliness and hunger.

You are not prepared,

all you have is a frisbee

your mother’s gift.

Each night they circle the fire.

Eyes watching, gold and steel.

The deep forest behind holds secrets

and sweet berries.

Once, on an unfamiliar trail

they ran past you

brushing your hand with the soft fur

of a happy dog.

You mark the trail 

with shared bread.