l.a.h.

for jane, for ever ago.

for old-fashioned television sets
salt water fish tanks,
&enough tableware to feed our humble army.
for sheep dogs,
brilliantly blue eyes
gentle voices &honest truths,
brand new ovens
&Jen's prints on every wall.
soy sauce and mushrooms,
apple tostada &tea.
&you.
you, all the while
breathing thanks with every syllable,
eyes that have seen so many things;
but you listen patiently, any way.

d.l.s.

there was some thing about you last evening,
it was just, just...
what was it again, exactly?
there has been some thing about you,
for these past years now, even.

i couldn`t help but think on you &me

then you, you were up there,
unrecognizable, dressed in things you do not wear
but i could still read you,
like the oldest of stories,
&my favourite ticking clock of a book.

you flew back down to meet me, [you all ways do, you know]
smiling and thanking me for thinking of you

oh! the beauty &wisdom that seeps out of your weathered, faith full soul!
&my heart
like a forlorn wanderer,
that has stumbled upon such a peregrine oasis!

IX.

when i saw you for the better part of the day, the sun was all ready beginning to rest.
but you had so many things to do while she was awake,
i didn`t mind. &i still don`t!
you are afraid i will get lost in your lack of difference,
of beach town alfredos,
&home town desserts,
of breaking mountain passes,
&seeing a life more hope-filled than you or I?
oh, but i have grown to love those vagabondish wanderings
in the constancy of your heart,
&good intentions foiled,
swiss army knives forgotten,
&baby bobcats bounding across our paths!

lisa scandrette.

there`s something to be said about a woman like you.
there`s something to be said about the lady who has been adventuring for so long, since so young.
there`s something to be said about the trust of rejoicing when mark speaks to college-aged students.
&highschoolers.
&middleschoolers.
there`s something to be said about quiet confidence, &living in a greater wholeness, than the author himself(?)!
i met you once.
i don`t exactly know what i expected from you.
you seemed happily content, supervising the stew &tomato dicing.
we exchanged no words, even.
perhaps a knowing glance. once.
what was it about you, then?
what is it that is so freely able to sidle up next to another beating heart, &say, "yes, yes, this. this is living."
what is it in you that dances so harmoniously to the chords of the Holy Spirit?
what is it about your spirit, as eager as a child`s, that says,
"yes, Lord! oh! pick me! pick me!"

please pick me, then too, sweet Jesus.