Why we fall
to see all Read More
I hear Jesus speak in a language I do not know.
He takes my limp hand in his, looks at my thumbnail and addresses the atoms by name.
They are neither male nor female,
Like God or colors, Read More
Moving through this world like forging your way through heavy plastic
Molecules dense and greedy even for your tiny space it becomes harder to breathe as they crowd around pushing in on you from all sides everyone striving to be stuck stable solid it’s like not moving at all Read More
that I might write a poem Read More
Stunning. Like love…
the world opensto take me in
with a delirious roll of thunder
as gulls cry saline tears,
to match the non-emotive hum
of the salted falls’ slow descent
into the belly
of the roilingsouthern seas.
like phospherescent foam
surging below the bridge
of galatic gyroscopes.
and i come
with a meek disrobing
of heart’s hollow –
you tenderly bend
©M.G. Iannucci 2017
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I was inspired while reading the chapter on motherhood, and apparently the baby in the womb was too, for after fifteen days past her estimated due date — as I tried intense mountain hiking, bumpy 4-wheel-driving over Engineer Pass, dancing my pregnant booty off to saloon ragtime, cooking with Himalayan chili peppers, an all-night full-moon vigil Read More
Behold! upward surge through the diadem
Sun lifts the people, its prayer for all of them:
‘This day will be a glimpse of Holy Spirit,
Some will kneel adoring, some will fear it.
Yet all who rise be taken up in the Word,
Though evil built a world and deterred
Creaturehood from knowing its Womb,
The love generated by Bride and Groom; Read More
The pain starts at night and I see myself holding you, your father looking into your eyes and finding a part of himself he had been missing. By the bright morning and cruel red-winged blackbird song though, there is no pain; your crib remains filled only with blankets townspeople and your grandmothers have knitted for you.
In the warm pool in the backyard under the canopy of the aspen grove, I Read More
I ask the storyteller sitting ’round the tree trunk to tell me of the origins of Read More
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