foundationless

Harvey S. Mozolak

some edge along the ground
as if seeking
by their slow snaking gnarled process
another place
to grip soil fingers
and stump and trunk
yet a few grow
upward from the dark humus
roots reaching
to as if become limbs and twigs
that bear the green of life
and rain autumnal color
or do they
dare the branches
of lightning to drop
and touch their rising
ungrounded pride

eaten, cupped and drained

Harvey S. Mozolak

“Jesus eats with sinners”
reads the invitation
rsvp
to the publican and republicans
Matthew and the democrats

the woman wanton with weeping
her tears a cleansing faucet
for his forgiveness flowing
there amid her fragrant adoration
she anoints his head and feet

and he her hands
bowled in the blessing
of his life-giving water
 
still showering
shuffling communicants
on queue the dying
awaiting the eating and sin cupped
and drained
on the vine to intertwine
sheaf and grain
sop the stain and soak the soul
feed the mouth and fill the invited heart 
 
Lectionary 24
Luke 15.1-10

uncertain sign

Harvey S. Mozolak

a falling leaf
on its autumnal journey
dry colored curled to mock
the green of grass and evergreens
caught mid plunge
by a spider's single strand
now swaying
teasing the season's
sense of conclusion

licking sores

Harvey S. Mozolak
 
 “I have you covered”
meaning mostly
something less threatening
than seen through a gun sight
and more like
“I am backing you up”
although these words too
can have an ominous overcast
at the gate
a poor man
they always unlatch things
besides the heart
and call for locks and security
because
they are covered with sores
“I have you covered”
because I am one of the sores
the purple squeezed
the mollusk gland drained
and left an broken empty shell
to cut the soles of Lazarus
shuffling in
under the table legs
bruised purple kicked
quite by accident during laughter
and polite conversation
beneath the linen beaten white
by the raw hands of harassed servants
some with burned palms
from the grease of sumptuousness
taken too quickly from the kitchen’s ovens
to the table
where like a dog
there is hope for a splash
drip drop
mercy’s morsel to fall
like a Jesus story
in its dead weight of warning
the taste of uncooked
raw glory

Luke 16. 19-31
Lectionary 26