Sacred Mother-in-Law

Here's a new short narrative poem, part of my Sacred Songs series. I put it in a scribd pdf because blogger won't let me do indents & hanging indents. The illustrations are by Olaf Mary.
Sacred Mother-in-Law - S. Sandrigon

Sacred Crèche

Happy Christmas, world! While I cook chinese food with some jewish friends, I'll offer you a new "sacred song" poem:

Sacred Crèche

A half dozen young geese clumped behind their mother,
Out in the duck pond behind the watering trough.
It’s cold, but they haven’t flown North:
Certain meteorological events have kept them from flying off,
So they cuddle in the dark, bodies close to each other.

Maureen Dowd announces it in the New York Times:
Her brother Kevin owns about seventeen Christmas crèches,
Hundreds less than some collectors’ collections, & for what it’s worth,
A child is born, the wings of a swallow, the little wishing fishes,
And all the other animals for which the rappers know no rhymes.

There’s two rats in my nursery,
So much incense, & other useless gifts for a baby,
Several unexpected human guests, uninvited, and others missing:
My midwife is imprisoned at the airport in St. Louis,
And the bridegroom & his beloved are in Vegas for their millennial anniversary.

The geese stretch their pinions to the four winds,
Take to the night, & fly into the east star.
Their take-off ripple in the duck pond freezes like an old man reminiscing.
Take to the night in Phaethon’s stolen car:
Just six friends on a sacred joyride, six friends, a means & no ends.

Maureen Dowd calls me on a two-way radio.
We rent out billboard space in Times Square
To advertise the the dawn with the world’s largest ultrasound.
Meanwhile, in a cave owned by an exiled billionaire,
In relative anonymity, a booby bird makes a nest out of guano.

There’s two rats in my nursery,
Joined by the widowed mother goose,
While bankers watch their stocks, all seated on the ground.
Since antiquity, the rats have had nothing to lose.
Their story is a universal story, a cursory, unmiraculous story.

Fragment: Sacred Plaçage

This was going to be one of my six-stanza "Sacred" poems, but as the fragment hasn't yet grown into that (& may never), I'll post it now as an incomplete.

Sacred Plaçage

Because the smarmy law--, around the omnipresence,

Around & thru the thick shrubbery--,

I'll take your arm with careful hesitance,

And commit you to the blubbery nunnery.

Because the smarmy law, because my life

In the future, because of my withering face,

I abjure you, my Creole wife,

On the threshold of deep space.

Sacred Massacre - Illuminated Poetry Book on Scribd

And here's another short illuminated nonsense poetry book: the poem "Sacred Massacre" (originally posted here) with panoramic photos taken by Miss Minnie Molly Mary. More books on scribd. I'm excited to see how these scribd books will look on tablet reading-devices like the iPad, &c. I was worried my landscape-shaped poetry books wouldn't look good on the Kindle, but damn! I'm betting they're going to rock the iPad.

Sacred Massacre - S. Sandrigon