Two Classes

This week I have an early class and a late class. We are moderate types. Texas would label us liberals and France would see us as back-wards thinking backwoods hicks. But we are graduate students at a college that sends people to fancy British schools like Oxford and Cambridge and Edinburgh. Each class has ten students who make sounds when the professor says something stimulating. Keyboards beat rhythmically. Pens find the edge of mouths. Thoughts bubble and ferment. Early we analyze the Victorian ideals on gender, romanticism, and sports. Late we read the Midrash and ask what makes words poetic. The monikers of each get reduced: The Sports Class and The Poetry Class. It’s a small college, and these classes don’t get confused with others. My pride in my school, and colleagues is frustrated on some level by the facts: there is one woman in The Sports Class, and two men in The Poetry Class.

Within You

The kingdom of God is within you.
Luke 17:21

Within me?

Well, more like in your midst.
It takes an understanding of
Greek syntax and particles,
but in you is a fine translation
you get the jist.

But I want to get
it.

What do you mean:
“get”?

Why are you being so frustrating?

Well, let me put it another way.
It’s a lot like

Stop. Whenever you start sentences like that
I get confused.

I like you confused.

I’m sorry I asked the question.

Flannel-Graph

[I realize this is a lot of posts, but I just got too many poems kicking around my head and a need to share them.]

I grew up in flannel-graph
With Moses and the parables:
The Sower, The Prodigal;

Crawling under pews,
Collecting sanctuary dust,
Singing Father Abraham.

I was supposed to set these aside
After Sunday school
When I left for University,

But flannel graph is sticky,
That’s how it works—and
The songs were too catchy.