“Conscience”

Antennae whiskers on a pink nose
Anxiously sift the breeze
Tail bald with anxiety lays quiet
Eyes bulge from the constant pull
Jerked back and forth by every wisp of wind
Each shadow and glimmer

Hunger pushes to leave the woodpile fortress
But a nervous skyward eye holds him in its cleft
Looming death gliding above
The shadow that sweeps the sunlit grass
Table scraps more convincing
Drives him into the unprotected open

Scurrying with eyes squinted
Anticipating the irresistible grasp
Clutches built to pierce life
And fly away with its remnants
Safety of a fallen log
And locomotive breathing slows

Till visions of fallen roast stir a frantic dash
For the rickety fence line
Only to find its shadow a deceptive shelter
No covering for defense
From the looming blue above
Too far to turn back

Clawing the dirt to squeeze through the sun dried pickets
Nearly blind but seeing the cracked door
His shadow at the end of the tunnel
Hastily up the grayed porch stairs
Across the threshold
And into darkness

A heart’s sigh of safety
From the all seeing blue
Free to devise his thievery without fear
A slight rumble cuts it short
Ears back, crouching, breathless
Two yellow eyes
Blink in the dark ahead

“1517” – By Chet Hervey

Clinking Coins
                  Trinket Thumbs
                                  Statue Saints
Empty Faces, Empty Hearts

Pen, Paper
          Beer Brashness
                    Cult Challenged
Frightened Flocks, Frightened Frocks

Knock of nails
              Tears of Terror
                          Made to Melt
Renewed Soul, Renewed Body

Blood bought Bride
             Washed in Word
                             Trust in Truth
Gloria, Gloria

                                 In Memoriam M.L.

“The Nail” by Blair

 
Crazed eyes of anxious guilt
        Drive them up to kiss each step
               Penance pittance left us restless
               Till the nail embraced our weakness
        Now a hopeful journey up
On the ladder another built

 

In remembrance of Wittenberg, 1517

“Chain” by Blair

Pedals churning
Chain winding
Held taught
To drive

Traffic closing
Tension burning
Legs strain
And cry

Flesh resisting
Lungs rebelling
Quell fight
And ride

“Omega” by Chet Hervey

The riddles of God are more satisfying than the answers of man.
- G.K. Chesterton

A tale woven from the dark days of the universe
Before form and substance flung their flight
An Author so masterful yet so veiled wrote
The story that both delights and deters depending
On the reader’s ability to see and hear and know
The back story and intentions of the One scripting it all.

A tale that kills and makes alive, separated by mere
Moments, unashamed and unapologetic to man or his kin;
Does the author know what he is doing? We ask,
Frustrated and faithless but also hopeful to see behind the
Curtain, so thick and swarming, preventing a good look
Or an insight into the details; and yet a standing bid to trust.

A tale that promises an ending with more twists than
The best of epics penned by man; where every thread is
Tied up and connected in perfect justice and mercy.
In the meantime, man waits; we wait and wonder at how
The Author keeps track of all the characters and plots and
Subplots, confounding and colliding in ways we can’t expect.

A tale that holds in perfect tension the deepest needs
And the deepest flaws of man just so that at the end of the
Story, the readers’ eyes are fixed upon its Creator and every
Demand for resolution melts in the presence of the One who
Knew the last line before he scripted the first; And yet the
Author resolves His tale because resolution still matters.

“Manmade Shade” by Chet Hervey

The sun struck by day,
Drying out skin and
Straw.

The woman looked at
Her blanket and smiled,
“Thick.”

No need for more warmth,
For cold is no where
Here.

Burning skin blisters;
No respite to be
Found.

Plowing and harvest;
Merciless, constant
Glare.

For a brief relief
The man would gladly
Trade

A week of corn from
Unforgiving ground
Seized.

Spitting and spiting,
Elements against
Him.

A vision: the wo-
Man, carrying a
Bowl.

Tongue darts over lip:
Anticipation,
“Water.”

“No,” she coos gently,
“From sun parched straw
Taken,”

“Woven like fabric.”
Mocking angry sun
“Hat.”

“Covering” by Blair

I’ve never known a eunuch

But plenty on the brink.

He wore an orange tunic

Only warm water he would drink.

 

Monkish self denying

Refusing him to take

A rich cup of blessing

Found in the fire of taste.

 

Following close behind

Was one appearing earless.

Hat large enough to hide

Them tucked within its harness.

 

The duck bill on his forehead

Shrouded his eyes from light

And from warmth it cloistered

His crown in perpetual night.

 

“Divine Gardener” by Chet Hervey

Rumble grumble, personal guillotine
Lopping off heads daring to rise above
The smell of exhaust and dirty moisture
There’s no time to let it wither and fade
O, rebellion and pride will beckon strong
Sweetly wooing with the promise of life
Fools, flourishing for a season only
To be cut down as Word triumphs with song

“Grass” by Blair

 

There is a common thread       

In the garter of shame

Worn by the knight Gawain

And Dante’s hem of guilt

On purgatory’s mount

Same thread weaved Portia plies

Envy spun in her eyes

Still displayed most monstrous

When Othello is found jealous

 

This thread supplants its root

Grace seen in every shoot

The color of blessing

Borrowed for condemning

Mercy’s hue intensifies

When its truth man defies

“I Never Raise My Voice” by Chet Hervey

Silenced with a slap
To extend a lazy nap
I speak nine minutes later
To the sluggard I will not cater

I will be faithful every morn
Though from sheets you be not torn
My screams you shall not duck
The beeps of a reversing truck

I patiently bear that load
Of daily resounding in man’s abode
Unmovable as a rock
I am your alarm clock

“A History of S’s”

Sun’s days
Moon’s nights
Ocean’s tides
Plural all

Creates in days
Covenants in centuries
Consummates in ages
Singular none

Men impatient
No time for S’s

“Keep Trying” by Chet Hervey

Anything worth doing, is worth doing poorly – G.K. Chesterton

A little to the left.
A leaning monument;
   the ingenuity of ten- 
   year-olds with a hammer,
A bag of nails and
A dream

Version number seven,
   maybe eight or nine.
“I have an idea,” says George,
   my brother, the engineer
   making complex diagrams
Even then

The construction site,
Two doors down from
   my house, brimming with lumber
   and beer bottles made bombs in
The grubby hands of
Two boys 

Our initial efforts collapsed;
   I have a scar from
   the ordeal. “Did you not
   hear about the tower of Siloam?”
Or the plywood cube, mostly
Of nails?

Even you must repent or
   alas, likewise perish
   along with our attempts
   and a stiff-necked people.
Repentance and construction must
Repeat

“Persistence” by Blair Edwards

Mountain of ice

Motion imperceptible

Effort invisible

Trail unmistakable

Valley of life

“tenderness” by Chet Hervey

tenderness

“Significance” by Chet Hervey

“Suppose Harvard had set its rubber-stamp upon Mark Twain”
– H.L. Mencken

Life, dear children
   depends upon today
Letters, bubbles blacken
   just so, proving that
   years of books and desks
And lectures were not in vain.

Sweat and pulse start;
   scratching, sniffing, shading,
Pressure of performance;
   meaning and success
   determined for this
Time forth, and forevermore.

Sixteen hundred
   ways to prove you matter
To the Powers that be;
   chewing cheeks and cramped
   hands speak to the height
Of our folly and bluster

The scholastic
   aptitude of men
Is all the measure
   our scientific world
   can offer, in lieu of
The absent: Imago Dei

Welcome

Welcome to The Salt Life Collective.