Wednesday, May 18, 2005


Death came swiftly
In the womb to us
And we are born just
A pile of bones
Our flesh already in decay
And groaning for the end of days
Cast into the deep

Son of man do you see these bones

And the wind blows where
It wishes and so it is with you
It finds our broken cavern full
And the son of man speaks
The speech of the holiest

Son of man do you see these dry, dry bones

Tendon and sinew knitting
Us together like you knit our hearts together
Like a master restorer
Existential crisis of who is who
And what is what and who am i
In this universe except a pile of dry bones
No longer--we are no longer dry
But wet with the water and blood
And we rise up only to fall trembling

Son of man you still see these bones


Blogger Ashley said...

This is great Manders; nice rhythm and repetition and powerful images. Keep it up!

May 23, 2005 at 12:16 PM  
Blogger Jacob C. said...

Hello. I recently started a blog and was searching fellow Wacoans. I discovered your blog and wanted you to know that I enjoyed your poetry. I usually don't read other people's posts because of my lack of interest in what kind of sushi they enjoy the most or something to that extent. But your posts are profitable and pleasant and well written - keep up the good work.
If you would like to read some objective posts with good, raw writing, appeasing to the general reader, I suggest my friend's post:



May 26, 2005 at 7:45 PM  

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