SHE MUST BE GOD

Because she
Now resides in
A 2 dimensional world
There is now a tear
Where the nipple should be.
It has taken
Someone
A lot of thought
To come up
With the idea of her
The perfect she
For me
It occupies
A substantial portion
Of my time
To get my arms
Around something/ (someone)
Who can’t be gotten
Nor understood
She must be God
As she lives as He
In an other-worldly realm,
Where I think in Her terms
But in a different context
And where Her name
Cannot be spoken
Where She cannot
And should not
Be looked at in the eye.
Scriptures from thy word
Of thy (my) mouth
Have been interpreted
And re-cast; whole
Lives to exist in what used to be
Her shadow and then
As one who leads others
To Her light
My head is severed by
Someone who cannot understand
A devoted heart –
For She so loved the world…
-jim hill (12-11-08)

I DRAG MY BLANKET BLINDLY

Have I banned the bayonet
Or forgotten how?
In the world of slow motion text
A scam of epic proportion
Threatens to overtake
Your mind and destroy
All thoughts, memories,
And excavations.
I’ve taken to wearing an
Aqualung to bed
There’s a protective layer
Of skin over my eyes
That’s taken decades to grow
I’ll protect myself
With this wall
And only occasionally will
I invite you in.
You can pretend
A deafness
At my invitation
But I’ll know that truth:
Your ignorance
Is something you’ve cultivated.
For a lengthy visit
I’ve chided you for saying yes
And ignoring my maybe
In another time
Our playful thoughtfulness
And life-lessons
Would’ve been admired
By old people
Whose world-view was
Limited to two-block
Stretches of freedmen’s town.

-jim hill (3-24-09)

Someday In Two (Axe)

No way to celebrate now
The end is nigh we’re told
Stanzas double up on us
The old mind
Can’t decipher codes
Like it could.
You have an ancient
Antique quality
Not seen in any
Roadshow. What may
Have been lost
Is now light.
As if we vaporize
And all that we were
Can’t be substantiated
Nor remembered. Doesn’t
That (my dear)
Make you sadder and sadder.
To take these ideas
To the tracks
To find the end of your perspective.

-jim hill (3-16-09)

clouds of new bastards

Clouds of New Bastards

Where do you find yourself
In the chapters of exodus?
Are you nomadic, disrespectful, or
Whiny.
Can you shake the dust off your
Boots and begin again. Can you say
“No” once more to your deliverer
And rebel against conformity. You say
And think important things
But as complex as your life is,
With its schedules, appointments,
And working-vacations, your adios
Is all that God needs to make yours
His way Home.


-jim hill (3-27-09)

Monkey Room

In A Monkey Room

The mother monkey
Signed to me
A slashing motion
To her throat
I’m not a naturalist
So I let her do it
I thought every species
Enjoy eating their young
Who am I to complain
To an ungrateful nation
Of hairy apes.

-jim hill (3-27-09)

she is who she was

SHE IS WHO SHE WAS

I looked
At this stain (at this shadow)
And thought I saw you
Staring up at me.
I’ve taken the easy way of sentiment
And turned it into an experience
Of reflection. No one knows if
I think; in fact some believe I never did.
If you were my father, you could use your right
To ignore
Or to misunderstand.
If you were my mother
You would use your time
To place me in a role
That was not befitting or proper
For someone so close to you.

In these ways I’ve come to understand
That you have reluctantly embodied
Those I knew and those I’ve not met.
I respect what you are and where you’ve chosen
To spend your life
And with whom you’ve chosen to spend it with.

You are not an empty vessel and not empty headed
I do, however, think you are not utilizing your full potential
As you vacillate back and forth between youth and maturity
Your hands and neck will betray your mental age and some will
See you as the Tinker Bell who never grew up
But never found it in herself to re-unite
With a man
Once known as Peter Pan.


-jim hill (1-20-09)

untitled

The New Judge of it All

You can’t bang the gavel
When your hands are gone
Can’t condemn
The retail merchant
Of thievery
From his own corporation

We all steal
We all corrupt
And are corrupted
We are our files’ own
Worst enemas

-jim hill (3-5-09)