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

re: signation
Harvey S. Mozolak

fingerprints on the weapon
that brought death
upon hundreds in a single hour
willing victims presenting faces
fore in a temple
for the shock of the scar
of the wound
ground in dirty graceless grit
of that once where the world
thumbed its nose at God
heart and thoughts
fixed on dead lifeless limbs
limp but for the drawing
firm slash
of the sign in ash
later in the evening
even after soap and bath
the grains of skin
where sin’s end was announced
are inked with these words
you are and shall return
furrowing the flesh
dusting the earth
imprinted with God
and the violence we magazine
below the carefully rifled
lines of shafts and wood stocks
we all keep as our rights
amending the created good

cleric's morning

Harvey S. Mozolak

fingernails of night
cold wicks clipped
some lost in the darkness
falling to the stone chancel floor
as scraps of day-directed thoughts
and guilt assuaged
are assembled
in candlelight
awaiting empty paper
a leaking black nib
and the flame of a convinced
tongue fumbling for words
beneath the shadow
of the ruminating rood

change of scenes

Harvey S. Mozolak

fog’s cool wet pat
on the warm land
wisps sleep unseen
longer
beneath grey fingers
extending
here and there their knuckles
quietly rising
above the trees and hills
to silhouette with silence
the sky and sun’s impatience
the clap and blink
flutter of flared wings
from startled nests
roar of engined breath
splash of a storm’s passing
awake
short the clawing hold
on hard slippery stone
and muddied earth
then on to hunt and prey
the seen no longer hidden