Just How Brilliant

“Just how brilliant are you?”
I asked him.
For I'd watched his elegant mind
Open to speak forth amazing science,
Yet his wisdom was always kind.
It invited thought so gently
That, before you really knew,
Your thoughts had joined his and carried
The formulae all the way through
To the twelfth and final derivative,
To a place where you could see the light,
And peace and joy at the understanding
Might cause your faith to be sight.
And yet his words were not pointed.
They would never be ones to bring harm—
Never critical or harsh,
Never any fear or alarm.

And he told me then
That he'd died once.
His body had floated above
To a place where all the answers lived ever,
To a place so filled with love
That his heart had been healed forever,
And he’d seen from a higher plane:
All humans connected as family,
All sprung forth from the same
Living source of eternal life,
And all from no matter what color or creed,
In the same great ship of humanity
And the ship is prone to sink.

But if we can empathize,
Anger will cease.
And if we cooperate,
Jealousy cease,
And if we can rise above ourselves,

And our cheap competitions,
We can have peace,
And the joy of the earth will return.

 

-jenn long

Where Tears Are Less Common Than Rain

I had twenty dollars
That I wanted to give
To my neighbor’s middle grandkid
For finishing something
That no one believed he could.

And so I gave it,
Though, it wasn't much,
But it was all I had,
And it was more than enough
For him, and just in time
To help him send an application off
To a school where he hoped to get in.

The look in his eye
Was so thankful and sweet,
It brought a tear to mine,
And I turned to my friend
Holding another grandbaby on her hip,
Stirring up a big bunch
Of something in a kitchen pan,
And I asked her,
“Can I hold that sweet baby?”
(Who must’ve been two or three)

And the baby noticed me cry,
And asked her Gaga,
“Mama, why it rain from her eye?”
And as I took her into my arms,
I realized,
This baby had seen it rain
More than she’d ever seen any emotion,
Which is saying something
When you live in West Texas.

 

-jenn long

Yes, I Am a Loner

Yes, I am a loner.
The Day does not possess enough hours

To give me to myself,
And so I must steal
From the Night's blind eye
And swindle the dawn to help
Me pawn my meager merchandise,
And stash my ill-gotten gains—
Misappropriated moments alone
With my sweet, unattainable dreams.

-jenn long

Mr. Non-Feasability-Report

Mr. Non-Feasibility Report smirks so smugly.
His “never-any-intention-of” dangles
Just there out of reach.
He stretches out tonight
On his bed without a worry,
Forehead as hard as a cornerstone,
Eyes in a quiet clench.
He folds his knuckles together
And twiddles his widdle thumb-kins,
First to progress the play-by-play,
Then, to reel it back in.
But, he knows it's nothing to write home about—
The fragments of shattered idealism
Still clutter, withdrawn and fractal,
Disregarded by the closed grid of his mind,
And dismissed by his coconut head.

 

-jenn long

Real Talkin'

I've edited out all the places
Where you go soft,
Or weird,
Or compulsive.
I've backspaced over
Any phrases
That don't make sense to me.
I've deconstructed
The faults and trips,
Airbrushed the guffaws
And Freudian slips,
And sterilized
The dialogue
Sanitaciously.
But I miss you saying
I could cure a hissy fit,
Or ice a cake without touchin’ it,
Or melt the poles with a butterfly kiss,
And some other words that I'd surely miss,
If
I over analyze the syntax
And sentence structure...
So let me just call ‘em like I see ‘em
And write ‘em down just like I hear ‘em,
And pray,
That alllllllll that sweetness
Comes thru
The self-same way.

 

-jenn long

Magic Words

Magic Words

 

Hoc est corpus meus.
Hoc est corpus meus.
I lie spiritless,

Six feet under you,
In the rigors of mortis.
Do you see there is no pulse?
Do you feel how cold
My body abstains
From deep within
The vault of your
Defunct imagination?

Come and transubstantiate.
Sit in the place where I have sat.
Empathize.
Bring yourself down
To my level.
Then send your words,
The magic words.
The etymology quickens,
"Hoc est corpus meus."
"Hoc est corpus."
"Hocus pocus."
Now we live?

 

-jenn long

Sighs Matter

Sighs matter.
Inspiratory force pulls

Against the surface tension.
Grippers snap
To allow more breathing room.
“Expand the stakes
Of your tent
Again for me, Dear Jabez.”
Remind me that I have a heart
Buried ‘neath the fruit
Of these looms.

-jenn long