These poems written in San Jose, California, to those in Cleveland, Ohio, in the 1980s |
FROM EAST TO WEST It's ten after 2:00 in the afternoon, Ten after 2:00 for me It's three hours later for you, my friend, What were you doing at 3:00? So much more time for the sun to shine, for me there are three hours more before I can be where you are right now. What was it like at 4:00? Where I am now you've already been I don't even know if I'll be alive to do what you've done three hours ago by the time I get to 5:00 It's ten after 2:00 in the afternoon, ten after 2:00 for me It's three hours later for you my friend will I even make it to 3:00? WISHES COME IN WERES NOT WASES Wishes come in "I Wish I Weres" Not in "I Wish I Wases" It's not proper to wish we was we must wish we were becauses: A were can make a wish come true but that's not true of wases? Or is it because the English books pick on the doesn'ts and doeses and wishes have nothing to do with weres? So, take heart, little wases! The grammar books are really to blame for wishes dependent on becauses. HURRY UP WITH ME, GOD Oh hurry up with me, God Oh, God, please hurry up I'm living just to be with You so make my life speed up. I can hardly wait, Lord, each time I hear Your Name it causes me to love you more and I want out of this game. The earth is such a heavy thing it causes me to fall when I know I'm meant for better things not earthly things at all. So tell me that You want me soon Oh God please say you do! Oh hurry up with me, God, I WANT TO BE WITH YOU! WHO IS THIS BODY GOD MADE? Who is this body God made, this person who I am? Did He make me a teacher, or am I responsible for that? He gave me legs for walking, but running's what I do He gave me love for sharing, then why don't I want to? Did God make me fat or thin, or did I make me this way? Did He plan out this moment or did I have all the say? Where do all my thoughts come from? Who is the one to blame? Do they originate above the clouds and fall down like the rain? Am I actually looking back upon who I think is me or am I really buried there, borrowing this person that I see? YOU WASTED YOURSELF ON ME, GOD You wasted Yourself on me, God, You wasted Yourself on me. Your beauty spreads across the sky, Your love's enough to make me cry, but You wasted Yourself on me. You say "Live, Cath, give it a try!" I say "No, God, I want to die." You say "Cheer up, give your problems to Me." I shake my head. It's plain to see You wasted Yourself on me. You wasted Yourself on me, God, You wasted Yourself on me. So I may live, Your Son did die. It was a gift! Yet I wonder why You wasted Yourself on me. Oh God Your love shows me You care that in spite of my hate, with Jesus I'm heir! You never ask one thing from me except to Your Name I bend my knee. Oh You wasted Yourself on me! You wasted Yourself on me, God, You wasted Yourself on me. I keep hating; for death I am waiting. I know I am hopeless. How mind-boggling to see YOU STILL WASTE YOURSELF ON ME! HANG IN THERE Hang in there three simple words can only be said from an easy chair with feet propped high, toes in the air, disguised with concern and care. Ears themselves don't know their meaning they sit on either end of a complacent smile, or a simper grin of a contented human being. Such lonely words are Hang In There solitary beasts suggesting hands holding fast to whatever they can reach. How well I know Hang In There No easy chair for me. Hang In There is a perpetual thing demanding perpetual feats; a command performance of effort every single time not once a week or twice a month but every second's a climb! How we take Right Now for granted if Easy Chairs could only see how difficult Right Now can be for a Hang In There like me. THE WARMTH AND BREATHING I love the warmth and breathing of the colors on her nose the soft, the cuddly feelings wiggling to my toes as she snuffles breathy noises like the summer wind that blows or uses, like my fingers, around my ears, her buckskin nose. WILD HORSES OF WHITE RIVER Wild horses; sturdy, strong against White River wind carve a stand as mist and gale lace ready ears; thick, pinned. Wild horses, sturdy, strong, lift hirsute flanks well-trained in a savage Yukon country then toss sage heads unchained Wild horses, sturdy, strong, live ever-onward, free May your lives be blessed and certain as well, your sanctioned lea. IF THE WIND WERE A BRUSH If the wind were a brush and painted as it went along the street would it be able to illustrate the people it would meet? To draw a picture on their skin then go its merry way continue with its masterpiece until the end of day? Just scatter color everywhere on everything it passed. Reds and yellows, purples, too on hills and trees and grass! AT THE BAT The dust blows up around first base The sun melts in the trees and as I stand with bat in hand My legs shake at the knees I give the bat a practice swing My lungs fill up with air then real slow I let it go Relaxed, my breathing's fair. I'm ready now, my head is clear, The ball arches the plate. I muster grit to make the hit The pitch is low; I wait. The muscles ripple down my arms I know my strength by heart. With all I've got I know I ought To tear the ball apart. I swing again with arms of steel The power fills my hands the ball, for spite, defies my might. Two feet away it lands. {/b}{/b} |