L.R. Harvey Poetry

CLOSE TO HOME An investor in the lowly sees—he posits— potential, his vision versed in investments which transcend the scope of the laymen's finite perspective (of which, I must confess, I count  myself as member.) Good foundation he insists,  tearing down drywall once deemed sufficient space to house, if temporarily, the world. He says it once again when prying up nails   no longer adequate to hold together a 3-bed 2-bath understanding of What Is, heads rusted from inevitable oxidation. Good foundation,  he adds a third time, as with a hammer he begins to raise a dwelling more sufficient for a swelling apprehension, while I, though grateful for such an undertaking, cry out as my ribs are ripped apart like curtain, my naked spirit baptized in sawdust.

DESCENDING TO THE HEART Descent implies embodying  a mole, implies that wet things will brush against our cheeks,  implies, of course, a deep dig to someplace dark, which then, in turn, sticks the mind in a cedar box  for a long deep nap, which  leads us to, (for those in touch with rhythms of sabbath,) hope, that once again we might find ourselves sipping on light with a tousled head, a fresh step, and maybe, this time, an endless day.

NIGHT BEFORE THE 16-WEEK ULTRASOUND He’ll knock in, slide over  us to get a closer look between what he says are developing legs.  Till now I must admit  you haven’t yet existed,  amorphous as my understanding  of the Trinity or Tao Te Ching ,  and recently I’ve found myself grown cozy in the thin space between two names. Call me agnostic,  but not knowing is a blanket that wears well, cause damn, baby,  particularity is scary,  and the world’s a stretch of hot  asphalt when you get skin in the game. 

VERY VERY ALIVE  Play Jairus' daughter long enough  by a clump of St. John’s-wort, and, (if run-ins with divinity are something you're open to,) watch it settle on your finger. Pins & cork won't apprehend a monarch— trust me, we tried—so stem the urge  to nail & hail. Grant it momentary perch  before it flaps a silent cry, rips the curtain of your breath . Put away the camera and the nets. Get up and f ollow it best you can.

THE FIRE WON'T LIGHT The problem is we ventured in  the forest with a yellow Zippo and  some wet wood. What did you expect   she asks as we blanket in thick  crickets, and I have to admit it’s a damn  good question. What does anyone  expect but that their flame will burn a little hotter than it proves? It’s true—prayer sometimes is a cold metallic click that faintly smells of lighter fuel—or maybe that's the answer. I mean seriously, baby, look how many stars

ENDLESS Sit tight or send a text—visit even— but don’t refer to heaven.  We’ll get you another one didn’t ever work for me, helpless in the parking lot, helpless as my little red balloon was swallowed by emptiness. Please, lament the loss  of air. Lament the way it slips off our fingers before we even get a chance to say goodbye.  Don’t refer to heaven.   Looking up one day, they always come to think of it themselves. You'll see them smiling as if they'd suddenly just had the best idea.

A MEAT-HEAD’S GUIDE TO PRAYER   Grown weary with lack of evident results, you stay a week away—it’s nice— then six because as far as you can tell you largely look and feel about the same. When at last you compel a Monday afternoon return, the words have grown conspicuously heavier in your absence— even the air has thinned like an old man’s chest. If pride inhibits you from bending down to lift up little ones long-neglected, find a trainer. If he knows his stuff, he'll remind you that the secret sauce is no secret at all: come back every day, bar none.

WISE FOOLS Page dog-eared somewhere in  the second chapter, they readily con- clude it doesn’t make sense and never will, quite convinced that plot-lines have surely tangled  beyond all hope of repair, bar miracle. I know , I want to scream, and isn’t it difficult to trust an author who leaves us in such dire straights? but I don’t, seeing as it’s my work  to convince them that maybe  they just haven’t reached  the good stuff yet. At least for today , I suggest, let's keep reading .