June 16

comments 3
poetry

a bird picks at gravel
under the grape vines

they are producing this year
green-hued pearls

small and bitter
nothing much

but grit and potential
the birds won’t touch them

shrieking away
in a burnt out pine

the violence of nature
is arbitrary

unlike ours
familias unidas no divididas

*

and when they were departed behold the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream saying arise and take the young child and his mother and flee to Egypt
when he arose he took the young child and his mother by night and departed into Egypt

now the LORD had said unto Abram get thee out of thy county
and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there for famine was grievous in the land

thou shalt neither vex a stranger nor oppress him for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt
if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land ye shall not vex him
the stranger that dwells will you shall be unto you as one born among you and thou shalt love him as thyself for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt

thou shalt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy whether he be of thy brethren or of strangers that are in thy land within thy gates

thou shalt not pervert the judgement of the stranger
cursed be he that perverteth the judgement of the stranger
do no wrong do no violence to the stranger

a Syrian ready to perish was my father

if ye will not hear these words I swear by myself saith the LORD that this house shall become a desolation

Jehová guarda á los extranjeros; al huérfano y á la viuda levanta; y el camino de los impíos trastorna

*

it’s cherry picking season

*

the orchards are lush and full
of migrant workers

and various cultivars
of the same tree

the distinctions ours
trees draped with silver mylar

to scare off birds
dazzling in the late sun

a beat up pick up trucks along
on a frontage road

parallels the highway
until the highway turns

continues on past
the river bend

converted warehouse churches
dusty roadside stands

with dirt cheap prices
and white paper bags

of Raniers like sunsets
of Bings like blood spots

the sun dropping low
into the jagged canyon

split open like a wound
to accomodate passage

3 Comments

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