State of Grace (Some Weekend When Jesus Ain’t Around) (poems from old notebooks, October 2009)

State of Grace (Some Weekend When Jesus Ain’t Around)

Some weekend when Jesus ain’t around
when your crucifixation starts to come unwound
we’ll walk down by the river
lay us a pallet on the ground
I’ll kneel before your song of songs
you’ll bless my mouth and hands
together we will sing new psalms
our holiest of sounds

And oh the mockingbirds may sing along
and show they know we’re locked in song
Crickets and crows may sing our praise
Sing about our state of grace

Some autumn when the preachermen
turn rhapsodic likening lives to leaves again
when they’re standing at their pulpits
pounding hairy fists and then
whispering that your soul will burn
remember how our mouths and hands
met and moved, our two bodies turned
to one fugue that never ends

And those mockingbirds will sing along
and never show they know those days are gone
Crickets and crows will sing our praise
Sing about our state of grace
while we fall and fail and fade
into memories of memories we’ve overplayed

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Memory, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetry, Religion, The Brain and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Mumble back at me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s