XXXIV-XXXVI

  
XXXIV.

I read the Bible through my freshman year
and ev’ry other year for quite some time.
Within my bones the Scriptures now cohere
to rhythm’d cycles homey and sublime.

The Greeks and Romans came to me through school,
in English, then in Latin class as well.
the Classics brought some wisdom to this fool
and Rome has ever o’er me cast her spell.

I love it when these two worlds intersect,
The classic and the biblical collide:
Josephus and Apocryphal Greek text;
the sacred and the secular elide.

Now in the Bible I can clearly see
the Romans in the Gospels look like me.


XXXV.

They fashioned a sarcophagus of quartz
and polished until all was crystal clear
then set it on mechanical supports
to drive it through the cities as a bier.

They sank his armored corpse in liquid gold,
in gallons from unnumbered honeyed hives.
He floated, undecaying, never old,
a spectacle for centuries of lives.

When Caesar came to Alexander’s tomb
he wept to know he never could exceed
the conqueror who hovered in that room,
immortal there in form but more in deed.

I hope before they put me in the ground
his resting place now lost yet might be found.


XXXVI.

A Midwest autumn can be hit or miss
but this one’s brought such color to the trees.
The morning blankets fields in fog and mist
and clearly there’s a bite upon the breeze.

The snow has fallen on and off for days
though as of yet it cannot stick around.
I enter now my wool and flannel phase
as heralded by frost upon the ground.

Reluctantly I turn the heater on
before my children protest in the night.
We make the time before October’s gone
to view some horror films with dark delight.

This best of seasons quickly slips away
encouraging us all to seize the day.