Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Isn't Life

The man-headed calves
Came out of their caves,

Isn't life tragic enough?

Medusa frowned in her
Jeweled and gold rimmed mirror,

Isn't life mysterious enough?

Hercules was transformed instantly
by the gentle touch of Midas,

Isn't life abundant enough?

I curl inside myself as
A shield above a family mantle,

Isn't life comedy enough?

-Patrick Conners Jr

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Like some heavy thing in deep water
~Dante, Paradiso III.123

Thursday, December 8, 2011


time is short
you would probably
                Say that
you usually do,

They say we shouldn't
waste our lives
and give incredible advice
on shopping, etiquette,
fine dining.

Have a date with yourself
and show up late
but come up with the
most unbelievable
fantastic excuse
something you wish was true.

You know its christmas
and everyone is trying to find the perfect
gift to say how much they love you
I hope, for you,
someone has the courage
to give you just those words

-Patrick Conners Jr

James Wright - Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.

-James Wright

Saturday, December 3, 2011

The Cross II: Poland Was Pink

The great rulers
                                of kings,
                the crown
                                of thorns,
by wood
                                His Cross.
Last Friday
                the World
was conquered!,
a great day
                                in history.
                                Thank Christ!.
Then the man left the

Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Cross I.

Standing before the
Cross for hours and
Breathing the very breath of our salvation.
A man in agony crawls
Through the portal;
The wide doors swallow
His wounds.
The transfiguration
Written on his face
Glows like holy scripture.
Tears, like holy water,
Wet his lips.
He approaches his own
Face erected upon the
Rough wood of the cross.