Just a reminder

That I also do a podcast where I read these poems and answer questions about them. If that’s something that sounds at all interesting to you, you can find them here, the episodes tagged “Intentional Stuttering With Mike Bonikowsky”.


Intentional Stuttering Episode Two

Listen to me read and discuss “Red Stuff” on episode two of Intentional Stuttering With Mike Bonikowsky, if that sounds like something you would enjoy. You can hear it right here.


The Podcast Is Here!

I’m super excited to announce that my poems will be forming the basis of a podcast. “Intentional Stuttering with Mike Bonikowsky”, a spinoff of the Geek Orthodox podcast, will have new episodes every other Sunday. I’ll take one of my poems and answer a series of questions about it, and discuss whatever should arise. You can listen to the first episode, “Canis Familiaris” here!

If you would like to request a poem, or have any questions or comments or furious interjections, email my producers at geekorthodoxpodcast@gmail.com.

 


Martyrs

When the Facebook bell starts ringing

To tell of more lives taken

By men with names that are not like ours

You always say the same thing.

You say it every time,

 

That they are monsters and

Inhuman and cannot

Be comprehended

For they are not like us

No brother, not at all.

 

But I say, brother, you’re a liar

And maybe sister, you forgot

The things we used to say in high school

The songs we sang when we were young.

A little too in love with easeful death.

 

And I say how fortunate were we

And the heretics we hated

And the infidels we feared

And I say thank Christ He made it clear

Which end of the gun we are to stand on.


The Book Is Here!

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“Cormorant Lord and Other Poems” is now available! Fifteen poems about babies and burnout and debt and disability and getting broken and getting built and the Jesus in all these things (and some other things too). Made of trees and smelling of ink and available to buy right here. Also available as an e-book.


Medication Administration

 

Every morning, every night

He folds his hands and holds them up

I spill out the blister packs

Scarlet pills in a scarred white cup.

 

I have seen that shape before

And now I find it troubles me.

Those hands held in just that way.

But I can’t place the memory.

 

Capsules gather in his hands

Each decoction in its turn

With names like Latin liturgies

That neither of us care to learn.

 

They’re meant to still his demons

Quiet the trembling in his limbs

Meant to make his visions cease

And meant to win some rest for him.

 

Only later on that night

When all is quiet on the floor

I remember where I’ve seen

Those hands make that shape before.

 

On Sunday at the altar

Patrick kneels with his hands held up

To eat, drink in that same way

Body and blood from that same cup,

 

He takes one like the other

Would that we all were so devout

Swallowing a mystery

For to cast a mystery out.


Poems In A Book

17506125_1250785678290121_1139197580_n.pngInsomnia-inducingly, bowel-looseningly excited to announce that Cormorant Lord and Other Poems From Under The Hebrew Sea is now available here. All the best poems from this site (and even some that aren’t) now available to carry about with you in case you see a carefree person and wish to unsettle them.

Designed by the inimitable Jeff Baker of digisciple.me and presented in finest .pdf and tree-paper.