HE SERVED SENTENCES

 

HE SERVED SENTENCES


Me, in my life, this--

drove my brother to airport

Came back, went to work


Your work, what is it you do?

Like Dude, you write in notebooks!


Jim Bodeen

14 November 2024

VETERAN'S DAY, 2024

 

VETERAN’S DAY, 2024


Walk the neighborhood, wave

hello to kids on bicycles, catch

a basketball from two boys

shooting hoops in the street.

The taller one mad at me

for months after I told his

Dad how he drove his go-cart

in the street. Walking

with hearing aids, listening

to a lectture about Bonhoeffer.

He was so young in 1933.

1934. 27 when he wrote

Cost of Discipleship--

Jimi’s age. Janis’ too.*

Taking notes on a church

bulletin stuck in my pocket.

Writing over Mark’s gospel:

Beware of scribes

who like to walk around

in robes. My people implode

after the election

six days ago. I didn’t even

know what day it was.

Ones come back

come back different.

Returning, Karen’s

curled up on couch

with a blanket. Immigrants

day and night

with other thoughts.


Jim Bodeen

11 November 2024


*Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin

WHEN ASKED ABOUT A DRAWING

 

WHEN ASKED ABOUT A DRAWING

OF MY BROTHER CUT OUT IN CLOTH


                              A poem for public school teachers


That teacher in 8th grade,

in the city school in Seattle--


                                               She said,


Take your wrist from the paper,

only the pencil touches, don’t


look at the paper, take your eyes

off it now. Look at what’s in front


of your eyes. Draw what you see,

don’t peek. When we were painting


trees, she showed me to make brush strokes

below what I thought were branches


telling me, Now, Brown paint.

Now you’re painting what you see.


This is color. You’ll need lots

of brown paint. She gave us large


envelopes big enough to slip

our paintings into. We carried


them under our arms and they went

all the way up to my arm pit, and


it had a string attached

to the large flap that wound


around the small cylinder

on the bottom securing our art.


When drawing portraits the first thing

she pointed out is where I drew the eyes.


Look at where you put them!

You put his eyes at the top of his head!


Look at the face! Eyes are in the middle.

And where does the nose go? Is


your wrist tired? Is that why it rests

on your drawing? I was most proud


of my forest, newly awakened

to the douglas fir. I was from the prairie,


country. My teacher, from the city, she

shows me how to paint what is visible


underneath green needles. She

showed me the mountains.


I returned again and again to the horse,

drawing the head from the side,


the eye its own universe, all-seeing,

and its single breathing nostril. That


brown envelope carried all of my work.

It was large, more cumbersome


than my trombone case

that was bigger than my body.


Nearly 80, now, I draw her face,

not knowing my teacher’s name.


Jim Bodeen

15 October-9 November 2024



GONE FAR ENOUGH

 

GONE FAR ENOUGH


               for G.


Mom used to say to me,

Jimmy, this time

you’ve gone too far,


and I’d say,

under my breath,

Maybe,


Maybe not.

One time

I thought I had


and found out

later

I hadn’t


Jim Bodeen

30 October 2024



0220 HOURS

 

0220 HOURS


            Opening Monday Morning


When I get up to pee,

        dark, dark, dark

when I get up to pee


Dark, dark, dark

        when I come back to bed


Dark, dark, dark

        in the notebook

when it opens



Jim Bodeen

29 October 2024

(BUT, BUT) (NOT SAID) (DON'T READ OUT LOUD)

 

(BUT. BUT) (NOT SAID) (DON’T READ OUT LOUD)


If I am quiet enough

I can hear

everything that is said


I don’t even have to be quiet


        So many languages


Karen speaks to me in color

            in fabric


After she listens


She wraps me in squares of cotton



Jim Bodeen

25 October 2024

THE NEW NOTE CARDS

 












THE NEW NOTE CARDS


He puts an envelope

into the margin of the book

where he wants to begin. To hold it.

He’s written title and author’s name

on a slip of paper, cut to fit,

and he puts that below the passage.

He learned to make note cards

in junior high school 65 years ago.

A scrap of paper has room

for the page number.

He will take his Iphone

and photograph this portion

of the page. He can make

postcards from the image.

He may write something,

a poem, a prayer,

or, simply send it

as it was made, in an email.


Jim Bodeen

23 October 2024