The Religious Pamphlet


New year: new you
This Year,
[all of the clichés]:

handplow, groundear
nosegrind, mindgear,
eyesprize, backwall,
firefeet, shoulderwheel.

Keep thy gaze
on the golden square, not
upon the devil’s ware.

Fist of prayer

  1. Thumb for those closest
    to the heart’s drum;
  2. pointer for anointing
    direction voicers;
  3. bird for the secular tall—
    often absurd;
  4. ring for the downtrodden,
    sickened, or weak;
  5. pink for the self
    and to always stay meek.

God’s plan for saving woman . . .
and man


Church Children
Necessity in church of not peeping—
people are sleeping.

Little boy prays,
“Lord, if you can’t make me a better boy,
don’t fret,
I’m having a real good time as of yet.”

Harold be thy name.

Life in a Jar
The jar lid barely fits
due to the brimming contents,
the threads full of grit.
Golf balls, pebbles, sand, and coffee grounds
fill the space of life the glass surrounds
interstices packed with objects small,
tidbits about the valued golf balls.
There’s room to sort by import
otherwise, you’ll come up short,
and, no matter how full your life may be,
there’s room for friends and coffee.

Pious People
The life strata in
churches; no matter
the demographic data

otherly love, gift to above,
Lordly vow, strength when down,
hope for next, joy of text.

Bible Quiz
Brought to you by the letter “Q.”

Do not be partial to partial;
sum is better than some.

Not an Angel
In resurrection, death brings
not a new host soldier with wings.
Paul writes of mystery:
it is not sleep that comes when we die
but change in the twinkling of an eye;
a trumpet, then immortality.
Angels: not divine or human;
Jesus –lower– tasted death for everyone.

Stay Hitched
The wedding knot coupling couples
often binds not, becoming a slip knot,
the rigging loose for the marriage launch,
half sailing into choppy waves and squall.
Seek thee a counselor, not a canceler
and give the sacred vow a chance.

Valued Sacrifice
Great spirits in the drought:
everything dying,
Comanche dancing for days.
She-Who-Is-Alone with buckskin doll
—features painted with berries, with leggings beaded
and a belt of polished bone, the head feathers brilliant blue—
a warrior doll: cherished possession:
the only remnant of ancestor shadows
cast by the drought.
The shaman returns speaking of selfishness
and valued sacrifice as recompense
the ashes scattered to the four winds.
In the night sounded by the red-winged bird,
the girl sacrifices her beloved doll:

morning bluebells
sprang where ashes fell—
rains came as well.

Of course; superstition is unfounded.

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