THE ROYALTY OF HAPPY HENS


EGGS AND ANCESTRY
            for Lars and Anne

August arrives, and fires.
Karen works Norwegian ancestry
looking forward to Anne's
discoveries in the motherland.
Thor, 84, her source,
outside Halden City in Sponvika,
a small village, traces roots
nine generations to 1535,
Mikkel Eskildsen, born in Denmark
aka Michel Jude, a bailiff
who corresponded with King
in Copenhagen. A Union then,
with Danish King calling the shots.

What did Anne find?
Lars and Anne's on Saturday.
Vib's art and Temari Balls.
MotherVision.
Happy hens, rich yokes, healers--
Lars and Anne--
ways the small farm
calms a troubled country.
            jim
            26--31 July 2019
P.S. No need to look for royalty
in my past. Serfs and conscripts.
Our names all began with numbers.




















Writer and therapist, Lars Clausen, works with memory re-consolidation as well as farming. A former Lutheran pastor, Lars has written many books from cycling around the nation on his on3-wheeler as an ally for LGBTQ friends, to his latest work, The River of Life: Spiritual Enlightenment and Memory Reconsolidation. His wife Anne is an artist and partner in the Happy Hens Chicken Farm. She created the quilt at the beginning of this movie.

Lines inspired by Richard Rohr


LINES INSPIRED BY RICHARD ROHR

Sit with the stones.
Take them up in your hands
and give yourself
a chance to see as God sees.
You were blind
to reverence for the sinner
but that is what brought you here.
It's not what you write
that frightens you,
it's that other thing
the greater problematic joy--
Christ suffering inside you.

Jim Bodeen
24-29 July 2019


MEDITATIONS FOR A PASTOR


MEDITATIONS ON A PASTOR'S
FORTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS

            --On the occasion of Pastor Ron Marshall's
               Forty years as an ordained pastor
              

1. MY WAY

My path to salvation had merit.
Under two, and over 80.

In years. Yes.
Babies and old people.

Mainly women.
They saved me

from the men.
The women died

and babies grew up.
I found old books

and monks. I read
Dante's Inferno

and thought
I had been to Hell.

Then I heard
a man from Estonia

call Dante's Hell
a pleasure palace.

What to do? What to do?

It's not necessary
to walk through

gulags to know
one's nature.

I found what
I needed to know

comfortable
in the living room.


2. Email to Ron 3 February 2019

From now on there will be no new prayers. They've all been written, the old monk tells Arvo Pärt. From now on, it's all preparation. Dear Ron, may nothing I say ever come from my head. May every word come from the inarticulate breath of me knocking on your door. I have learned so many practical, no scratch all that out, saying thank you is, well--those two guys of yours, Martin Luther and Soren Kierkegaard--that you gave them to your congregation--that you thought that much of them, it's so, so beautiful is what it is, that you thought that much of your people. This should be in a letter not an email.

BTW I found you in West Seattle looking on the internet--your name came up somehow pertaining to the martyrs in El Salvador. jb


3.  LETTER TO PASTOR RON MARSHALL
ON THE 40TH YEAR OF HIS ORDINATION

From the suffering in the pew, laughter.
When the door opens accept the offering.
The framed portrait of Martin Luther crossing time.
Mysterious credibility and the cursing of false prayers.
Now we enter the strange world of pastors
tight in their collars, the ironed ones.
Necks looking for a way out.
Called by Committee to atone.
Nuns say Father only cares about the collar,
then laugh at pastors
who only know chapter and verse.

Say 40 and yawn. Young guys
talk beer, big bottles. 40s.
Pop songs. Beer tarts. Footnotes.
40 days and 40 nights. 40 years.
Refugees in margins and poor.
Footnotes in history you've been looking for.
Praise edges. Approach the abyss.
Pastor makes home visits.
Margin and Footnote hanging out.
Knowing Luther and Kierkegaard.
What surprises most?
Jesus-wonder.
Where ever the gospel is preached.
What would we have done without the devil?
Reading outside the Bible
where parables come from.
Cartoons in parables.

Of Kierkegaard. Of Luther:
Luther first. What to do about Psalm 82: 2-4?
Luther says write these lines in your room,
over your bed, on your desk, and on your clothes.
Give justice to the weak.
Deliver them from the hands of the wicked.
Liberate us from narrow-mindedness.
We have carried around this cup of darkness
like a man anointing himself Bly said.
He was walking into El Salvador
on his way out of a Minnesota snow field.

Is there anything you want, his father asked.
Yes, a complete set of Kierkegaard's journals.
Be thou my vision, Van Morrison.
I'm not there either. Look for me in 1969.
Tell me what you see. Whose son are you?
Let's open our Korans.
Richard Hugo knew West Marginal Way.
Ideas are smarter than corruption.
Richard Blessing didn't say that,
but he stood for it. He stood right here.
We know it's not classical gas.
Who knows if it's true?
That question will come up.

Kierkegaard's yes and no.

That one no, a yes.

This is meditation on the Mountain.
High Camp in the Cascades.
A temple of windows and crossed panes.
An office to ski to.
6000 feet elevation.
Slurping noodles, hearing your big laugh.


4. P.S. I fought over use of wilderness or pulpit in the title. I left it. But here, at the end of a poem, there's privacy, and room to talk. The only pulpit in literature that looks like yours, is Father Mapple's pulpit, in Moby Dick--and he gives one hell of a sermon on Jonah and the Whale--In this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, is a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers--his only access is to climb the rope ladder--red worsted man ropes--hand made by one of the women. Once safe inside, on board you might say, he hauls the rope in after him. Makes a man want to replace those cushioned pews with benches.

Jim Bodeen
28 January--3 February 2019

Statement for Ordination
Pastor Ron Marshall picks up the phone, visits the sick, and opens the door. He is the mediator who spans the chasm which divides. He does this by trusting his people with a full gospel, which amounts to truckloads of what is real. In the study and practice of his calling, one can witness that he is not interested in colonizing the faith. His deep laughter affirms us in our daily walk, rejecting what is false to our own experience, giving us confidence in our worship.

Jim Bodeen
4 February 2019



Pshh, Pshh


















BANG! BANG!

Honor beyond reaching for
and after all these years of quoting Falstaff,
saying, Pshh, Pshh, spittle coming
from my mouth on friends' floors,
I know something of what he was trying to say
pulling the bottle of wine from his holster.
Humbled comes next, by your friends.
Graced by Yanos Pilinszky's splinters,
your spikes in my heart
washed into the ancient patina
of stone. Honor beyond reaching,
unlike Jeffersonian reason. The eschaton
mocks Newton and Rousseau,
waving banners raised by Blake.
Blood-pumping. Blood-pumping.

Jim
28 June 2019


Smoke Break


SMOKE BREAK

My neighbor next door
is having a cigarette
I can't see him
here on the porch
where I sit reading
His smoke comes over
and turns in
to the garden room
It's ok
and he doesn't know
we share part
of every cigarette
he smokes out front
of his house
We never talk
about the suffering

Jim Bodeen
14 July 2019

HAND RUBBING THE STONE


















LINES WRITTEN WHILE BREWING ESPRESSO

Karen painting with water colors
Turkish coffee in stove-top machine
Reading Grossman's Life & Work
Dozing on front porch
The richest brew I know
Season salmon for grill
at Karen's return
Taste of banana pancake
in mouth picked up from plate
left on counter two day's old
moist in center
Old truths moist
and declared errors
Someone like myself
would have turned over their mother
to authorities in other times
for this treat
surviving another day
Why we now
Other times, other times

Jim Bodeen
14 July 2019


Bringing it down


LATE SUMMER AFTERNOON

            for Pastor Ron Marshall

She lands on the white pine bonsai,
a female robin as we watch from kitchen table.
Soon joined by her mate bouncing the limb
adding joy to our meal. Karen grabs her phone
for photos, then sees she's injured.
He leaves and returns as we wash dishes.
For two days we listen to his calling
as he returns with food, beak filled
with worm, being emptying his grief-song.
Karen's love knows this suffering.
I found the bird under the half-moon maple.
Karen knows the child's need for ceremony.
I understood nothing until
I had been reduced to writing.
            Jim
            8 July 2019





A CLOSE READING OF BOB ROSE


READING BOB ROSE* AROUND THE CAMP FIRE

Living on islands Bob rose
the road outward as the road home,
initiated. Learning simplest things last.
Quiet voice around the fire
with blues harp and piano.
Crossing arms with a circle of men
in their 70s passing candles
I walk through those roses
of Lorca's family in Granada.
They greet me waiting for the taxi
that will take me to his fenced memorial.
I love Hannigan Pass, its sap boil
from the first shaman
machi curandero--did he read your urine?
Gratitude for the four twice four.

Pine sap bound him to the rock--
no mind no goal a partridge point.
Singing repetitions of songlines
dewey beach blackberries
dewey beach blackberries
digging in the sacred steam
answering the phone
it's ringing it's ringing
the baptism local                                                  

One time Karen and I
climbed the tree
and slept in Clifford Burke's tree house.
I carried my first broadside
locked in the chase
we printed copies at home for a month, practicing.
Make ready. Make ready. Tissue-thin shims.
It's beautiful, he said, but fix
that upside down o.

You missed the last ferry
but another one's coming
the practice is all
count on it the fire's burning

Jim
5-6 July 2019

*Bob Rose, handset the type to Living on Islands, and it was published in 1980 by Co-op Press in an edition of 300 copies. My reading of Bob Rose around the campfire is literal and factual, involving close textual reading and listening. jb

MISTAKES HAVE BEEN MADE


RESETTING THE STONES

Each stone follows where ceremony
sets itself from the center stone
where memory touches all that is fragile.
Mistakes made with heavy stones.
No setters here to slide poles underneath
to aid in movement. Old bones
flat out stretched. Knees in dirt
attempting a rolling sea-like motion,
a back-and-forth waving of water
against rock, back and forth,
back and forth, a re-set of vision.

Jim Bodeen
2-7 July 2019

Post Card to William T. Vollmann


POST CARD TO WILLIAM T. VOLLMANN

"this is all we will ever have to love"
            Robert Sund

We've had you with us
on the beach at Shi Shi
with Robert, reading poems
calling out your name

with those who sing the song
of nothing-held back. You're around
the fire, plenty of room, you
don't have to write another word.

Borderlands is shack work, too.
Walking, hiking, looking around.
Fully engaged, finding color
and texture in stones, working

the patina rubbing stones
in their patient witness.
This note of thanks, confirmation
of your presence in the circle.

Jim Bodeen
29 June 2019

UNTITLED


UNTITLED 

Flower and rock and tree.
Taking the stone from the river
one interrupts time. Stop the stone
on its way towards pebble and sand.
Put the tree in a pot and make
its trunk look old and ancient.
Flower already summer gone.
We sit in the pergola,
garden-time illusion-beating reality.
Ice water in our glasses.

Jim Bodeen
18 June 2019


BUT WHAT IF IT WAS?


BUT WHAT IF IT WAS?

Surely it must have been from that fall!
On the mountain that time, skiing.
Protrusion, growing straight up
from my right shoulder blade.
What if it was that missing bone spur?
How did it get here?

Jim Bodeen
27 June 2019