THE DRIVE

The cross country
Drive went off without 

A hitch.

Much kissing. 

You parked down near my tailbone
And camped out behind my spleen.

You walked desert roads 
And I listened with a cup
Pressed up against my belly

To your singing. 

And then you exited through my pores
Like a vapor 

And for some damn reason
I built wings for you to fly

And helped you get them 
On your back.

Gave you the final push off
Saying something like, 
“Be free! Be free!”

From me. 

And I burdened myself
With another cup against
My belly, 

My heart,
My throat
My head. 

Kept hearing the same old song. 

Until I watched magnolia leaves
Turn brown

And realized it was all enough. 
Im going to throw these keys out now. 

Throw them out the window
Down my spine to be eaten by my stomach
And 

A permanent neutrality will come 

To be. 

What am I more afraid of?
The drive or the absence of

Cars on the road. 

stephanie lorentzen-jordan

Popular posts from this blog

THE GIRL IN THE BOAT

The rose spots On her face like a leopard Lit warm as the sun overhead Held its rays out past the night Reaching to her like a child To a mother who had Been Gone A Long Time Beaming Across waters where Creatures had Never known its warmth. In depths dark and watery As the cave of his inner-being, Cold She doubted she was One, But maybe the Ocean, Blood filled And nothing else. Vapid and airy He glided over the earth After work, after long Hours of sitting At conference tables. Discarding his clothes. His shoes kicked off And fell from depths Like a broken ledge off a cliff Landing in the Sahara For the poor who hadn't Known coverings, Took to them as Super-natural. And the watery depths Dried, and the tunnels and channels Became like bedrock. Mystery was high above, On wings passing over Snow-capped mountains And your socks Dropped down too. Naked and filthy ...
Read more

OFFICE OF THE MORNING SUN

Chapters lay at waters edge Consumed by flames Disguised in red Like skins of blessed fruit Strewn thereof Feed for trough, Both swine and dove. Word on paper spoken there From the tree she shook the golden pear Or apple or cone or nut or none And from omniscience They did run. And man in hand She pulled and sent Until their minds were empty Rent Souls (diminished) Man did nothing deem But lead the way For death redeemed (it's finished). And peace and love and Tender strikes The heart of living Immortal light, With exuberance She did walk the line And claim ineffable Life divine. Think it on And ponder through As giving thanks And walking true A hand held out And benevolent beam Of sky and ocean To mingle blue With golden sunshine Blood in veins And heart renewed. The stream It presses gently forth Pouring, pressing, Pulling north, In disregard of vast periphery That tempt it sideways From source epiphany. And reaching now Its great endure The opening settles In seats adore Throne...
Read more

THE NIGHT PSALTER

At the edge of sky, Where it can no longer be Harnessed Or corralled For its life-giving Liberty or Picturesque beauty Where the air thins and strangles But a whistling comes And something in its being groans dark. Where the beauty of sunsets Die out like a campfire And spit out slowly Smoldering into the thicket Igniting the black, Swirling in like night on top A double-scoop cone - the universe. The sun Wandered off To play on the other side Of the park And climbing up over the edge, On my knees Leaving thoughts Rattling and haranguing With no audience to Perceive them, Peace flooded like An avalanche And crushed all that was Known To unveil a multitude of Truths and never seen before Beauty. Everything was possible here And everything is. stephanie jordan-renz
Read more