Jacob Bearer

The birds' cracked voices spring
from the white pimpled Dogwood trees,
that shake off winter's bygone youth
to uncover unsure crocus buds.
...

Mornings always end the same, in a car,
on the way to work, done.
Then comes the time clock, the rolling glances to fellow workers.
And as I start the engine lathe,
...

'O certe necessárium Adæ peccátum…
quæ talem ac tantum méruit habére Redemptórem! '

Mortal Adam with fruit filled stomach stands.
...

It was Autumn, and the clouds unfolded like a blanket
filling night under its cover,
and the white worn pages of my prayers, dimmed.
...

'...they returned by another road' (Mt.2: 12) .

We are a constellation of wills,
fire consuming,
...

belabors Satre
surmises life's not worth living;
then, returns home for coffee steaming.
...

I sifted through lingering memories
living like Lazarus wrapped in doodled notes in folders,
stiff in my desk drawer - slowly coming to light.
...

Bartholomew left the world
the way we all do:
in a red and white martyrdom;
faith that peels your flesh
...

The captain's wooden bedroom door
with horizontal slates peeking down
latches fast to the fiberglass
by a silver hook fished through a silver eye
...

The white moon sends a thousands winks
across the wind chopped sea
while slender tarpon shadows hunt
teams of minnows ‘round the hull.
...

Kneeling in the wooden pew,
before the gold monstrance,
the 'Tantum Ergo' catches me away,
and I am swallowed by the Body
...

'Let me run to you, the spring, and drink the divine draught
that you cause to pour forth for the thirsty,
offering water from your side opened by the spear' (St. Gregory of Nyssa)
...

At night the field slips on a negligee of white mist
that glides down the plain's winter body
while the boughs curl their fingers
before my trail crunched in the snow -
...

The snow falls like dust
blown from God's forgotten novel -
the film forgotten once brushed away.
But, as if to say, "You love me, too, "
...

For grad school I took a [test]
filling in empty circles, true or false
in a white washed asylum,537 questions full.
...

At 21 years old
I still like to bang
on plastic plates and cups
with chopsticks -
...

White buildings enraged us,
so we got red and black paint,
to screw up every one of 'em.
...

(St. Petersburg,2008 June 4)

Your fanged sterile gloves,
and snarling scrubs, tear into me
...

Walking into that bar,
the black lights unearthed lost ancestry.
The entire tree was blooming,
from the tattoo-sleeved Neandertahl,
...

Margret's rearview mirror rosary swayed,
as her wrinkled car filed into the lot,
falling in step to the airy chant
of those black crows atop the belfry.
...