c u p p e n r o o d

B287. Every segment

was magic

marker on the poster arrows

pointing, labeling

names of parts. What mystery and hatred

is the will of passion's kept unlabeled Self-

seeking magic in pens.

B286. Fruit in the wires—

white wires six Grannie Smiths and
one plum.

B285. Iron Bed

lutes in the rain rust

boards from the wire fall

sides for the bare breaths

fingers hand herbs; deaths

punctured loot rains, rust kneeling

clung (quaint harvest) lutes in the rain stir

pot on the coils pluck, kettle warm,

settle warm the iron bed.

B284. Wedding Shadow - wrung poem

run from the foot, turn one
side long white cover.

Wedding Shadow

wake from the root, grow one
up gray cover.

Wedding Shadow

lain over soot, come one
earth wave cover

Wedding Shadow

walks no face, of One
from mornings given, two

Wedding Shadows, two are
one, long white laughing

at the hands' repository, rough
words, sad missing what never
never never was seen—and more, never
never never returned by one
of shadows weeping where the
other grew, danced, turned, walking earless

became shade.

i.
run side Wedding

wake up Wedding

lain earth Wedding

walks from Wedding one,

at words never never of other

became

ii.
one cover.
Shadow one cover.
Shadow one cover Shadow One
two are laughing
rough never never one
the earless shade

iii.
from the foot turn long white
from the root grow gray

over soot come wave
no face

of mornings given Shadows two long white the hands'
repository

sad missing what
never was seen—and more
never returned by
shadows weeping where
grew, danced, turned, walking

45 minutes to watch

myself grow, slow release fertil
izerwhite bballed sseeds hop ethe ostrich egg runs
its legs faster then

watch the man shake my hand, his eyes my eyes
minute watching what words in what form
cool gelatinous.

what money bbalse seeding hoep aessmbsel.
45 minutes to less
than yes, two.

I, He, She

clearing out my purse, found I'd written this

I am a woman
in the bonnet on the deck
of HERS heaving, occupied
hands, my holding the bow
in place beneath my chin.

He is a man
in the boards of the ship
HIS riding occupied salt,
HIS cutting waves as foam
beards liquid blue.

She is a vixen,
that Sail billowing
far above my hand-held
bow & bonnet blown, HER
Sails continue to carry me
seasick, footless foe, small feet,
clamped chin, hollow hull &
grateful deck, boards, keeping
me dry.

books on my bedside table

Lift teacup, move crocheted rainbow footies, straiten taped Mulfinger Christmas card lampshade; take extra pillowcase away, pull out two church bulletins, remove empty cat mug, water dry; notice four scents of lotion, one bottle of perfume, one necessary container of muscle rub, two pencils, two pens, one green ink and one empty of ink, near two coasters, one sewn by a young older daughter, and one matching a set of four, gifted for an event requiring thoughtfulness.

The books are slovenly stacked. Hope moves them from place to place. I desire to know them, keep them, absorb their beginnings and transits, digest their authors' characters in paper kept. Better at choosing lotions before bed or dressing, I continue to move books around. They are wonderful, wonderful, like children fostered mine, though I've never written two, and have not yet fostered a child. To know of them is a canyon's view, at one time loving each possible, remembered hold as ledge, homing cataclysmic sight lines, every sunrise and sunset revealing another's passage before me.

Library books:
RICK BASS, The Lives of Rocks, Stories; published by Houghton Mifflin Company; Boston and New York; 2006. Other books by Rick Bass are The Deer Pasture; Wild to the Heart; The Watch; Oil Notes; Winter; The Ninemile Wolves; Platte River; In the Loyal Mountains; The Lost Grizzlies; The Book of Yaak; The Sky, the Stars, the Wilderness; Where the Sea Used to Be; Fiber; The New Wolves; Brown Dog of the Yaak; Colter; The Hermit's Story; The Roadless Yaak (Editor); Caribou Rising; Falling from Grace in Texas (Coeditor with Paul Christensen); and The Diezmo. (I have begun reading the first story in this book and re-began it, reading aloud to my husband. The first story is really sad. I may move on to the second.)

SEBASTIAN BARRY, The Secret Scripture, A Novel; published by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.; New York, New York; 2008. Other writings by Sebastian Barry are (fiction) A Long Long Way; Annie Dunne; The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty; (plays) The Steward of Christendom; Sebastian Barry: Plays 1; Our Lady of Sligo; Hinterland; Whistling Psyche; Fred and Jane; The Pride of Parnell Street; (poems) The Water-Colourist; Fanny Hawke Goes To The Mainland For Ever; and The Pinkening Boy. (I am re-reading this book.)

WILLIAM E. BARRETT, The Lilies Of The Field; published by Doubleday & Company, Inc.; Garden City, New York; 1962. Other books by William E. Barrett are The Edge of Things; The Empty Shrine; The Sudden Strangers; The Shadows of the Images; Woman On Horseback; The Left Hand Of God; and Flight From Youth. (I have not read this book.)

MARGARET CRAVEN, Walk Gently This Good Earth; published by G. P. Putnam's Sons; New York; 1977. Margaret Craven authored the book I Heard the Owl Call My Name. (I began reading this story, and thought more of northwestern America, and fathers leaving their children behind, as well as thinking of a woman I know whose childhood was there. The title is wonderful, though, and reading the book may bring me closer to my friend, and closer to "fathers". There is also a piece of mail in this book that I am to pass on to my husband. Reading books is easily interrupted.)

Books in a separate stack, given to me to read:
RORY NOLAND; The Heart Of The Artist: A Character-Building Guide for You & Your Ministry Team; published by Zondervan Publishing House, a division of HarperCollinsPublishers; Grand Rapids, Michigan; 1999. (This is a very good book, belonging to my cousin by marriage, Cory James.)

CINDI WOOD; Too Blessed For This Mess: The Frazzled Female's Guide To Overcoming Stress; published by B&H Publishing Group; Nashville, Tennessee; 2007. (This book was given me by my twice hairdresser, Becki. It is a valuable book, and Becki is a valuable hairdresser; as is Jennifer, my long-time-friend hairdresser. I have been asked by my older daughter if I might be approaching menopause. Perhaps. Either way, my hair wants tending, and books tease the gray matter like nothing else.)

JERRY BRIDGES, BOB BEVINGTON; The Bookends Of The Christian Life; published by Crossway Books; Wheaton, Illinois; 2009. Another book by these authors is The Great Exchange: My Sin For His Righteousness. (I have not begun this book.)

MARTHA PEACE; The Excellent Wife, A Biblical Perspective, expanded edition; published by Focus Publishing Inc.; Bemidji, Minnesota; 1995, 1999, 2005. (I have begun this book and will finish it. I do like that it is filled with scripture. That is its good to me. I think I am not teachable, in the sense that is good for others to perceive. These years, trusting others for anything good at all has been challenged by my own ample willingness to flout my own choices and the opinions of others who appear stable. Stability shifts, intangible, and to know or think or trust God's Will for my intangible staying or shifting has proven, by now, to be a great joy that belongs to me and my Jesus Christ—God having given room to flout my chosen sacred, for a time, enacting His Mercy. I may say it is a joy, and I may lie and repent. But I dare not lie again by logic, because I believe Jesus has my pain and scars, and those of my husband, as well as his and my willing choices at any point in time. God has willed for me to live and for him to live. And God has willed for us to live together in goodness. ... beyond that, deeper than all intractable logic, is God's Loving acceptance of The Slain Lamb, Jesus Christ risen in the heavens, exalted and embracing His having given, The Holy Spirit's healing work upon the earth, to and through those who will believe at any point in Christ's Open Mercy. Gracious God. God is gracious to me.)

words I've heard today; and words I've sung today with others

Jay Bopp, conversing in the kitchen at 5:46 PM: I've learned this year, am learning, that selfishness never goes away. Selfishness is a crazy horse straining at the reins. More from Jay at 5:48: My mantra this year is, "Welcome inconvenience on behalf of others." I'm not able to do that every day, but I try.

Chuck Simmons, teaching with his wife, Beth, this morning in Sunday school: A close relationship costs me my selfishness.

The Power of the Cross
Words & Music by Getty & Townend

Oh, to see the dawn of the darkest day:
Christ on the road to Calvary.
Tried by sinful men, torn and beaten, then
nailed to a cross of wood.

Oh, to see the pain written on Your face,
Bearing the awesome weight of sin.
Ev'ry bitter thought, Ev'ry evil deed
crowning Your blood-stained brow.

Now the daylight flees, now the ground beneath
quakes as its Maker bows His head.
Curtain torn in two, dead are raised to life;
"Finished!" the vict'ry cry.

Oh, to see my name written in the wounds,
for through Your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death, life is mine to live,
Won through Your selfless love.

chorus (1-3):
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Christ became sin for us.
Took the blame, bore the wrath,
we stand forgiven at the cross.

chorus (4):
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Son of God, slain for us.
What a love! What a cost!
we stand forgiven at the cross.

approaching the image

from the wrong place, keeps the rainbow on the ceiling in my memory,
fingers clipped tea stains, kept with time
for tomorrow's eggs.

B283. Pain Propels Force - wrung poem

Like walls' agreeable tension keeps in line] [the waters
pulling down, pushing up, pressing in Like force] [can]
[do.
Like air busies itself with feathers and leaves its sound timpanums' heads,[
]two wings] [as metal, shaped for buses holding seats in rows,] [we ride.

i.
Like pulling [do.
Like ]two

ii.
waters [can]
heads,[ ride.

iii.
walls' agreeable tension keeps in line] [the
down, pushing up, pressing in Like force]
[do.
air busies itself with feathers and leaves its sound timpanums'
wings] [as metal, shaped for buses holding seats in rows,] [we

iv.
line] [the
force] [can]
wings] [as
rose] [we

B282. Two Rainbows

can paint-lids white
patch cei(CHmann)ling light, and set-
bevel panes, refracting two; man beams of can-

hold weight relived in colors stretching there.

Stretch bars hung-sheer, cream pass promise through-weaves After's
noon repose, this glide—; Rock sit, words off, set two, sky's rain, ice lids
in patched-white striae, ceiling's Day.

Psalm 104 - text (ESV)

O LORD My God, You Are Very Great

1 Bless the LORD, O my soul! O LORD my God, you are very great! You are clothed with splendor and majesty, 2 covering yourself with light as with a garment, stretching out the heavens like a tent. 3 He lays the beams of his chambers on the waters; he makes the clouds his chariot; he rides on the wings of the wind; 4 he makes his messengers winds, his ministers a flaming fire. 5 He set the earth on its foundations, so that it should never be moved. 6 You covered it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. 7 At your rebuke they fled; at the sound of your thunder they took to flight. 8 The mountains rose, the valleys sank down to the place that you appointed for them. 9 You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth. 10 You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills; 11 they give drink to every beast of the field; the wild donkeys quench their thirst. 12 Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches. 13 From your lofty abode you water the mountains the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work. 14 You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth 15 and wine to gladden the heart of man, oil to make his face shine and bread to strengthen man’s heart. 16 The trees of the LORD are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. 17 In them the birds build their nests; the stork has her home in the fir trees. 18 The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers. 19 He made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting. 20 You make darkness, and it is night, when all the beasts of the forest creep about. 21 The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. 22 When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. 23 Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening. 24 O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. 25 Here is the sea, great and wide, which teems with creatures innumerable, living things both small and great. 26 There go the ships, and Leviathan, which you formed to play in it. 27 These all look to you, to give them their food in due season. 28 When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things. 29 When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. 30 When you send forth your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the ground. 31 May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works, 32 who looks on the earth and it trembles, who touches the mountains and they smoke! 33 I will sing to the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have being. 34 May my meditation be pleasing to him, for I rejoice in the LORD. 35 Let sinners be consumed from the earth, and let the wicked be no more! Bless the LORD, O my soul! Praise the LORD!

10:16AM; 23 February 2010; Tuesday—Facebook Status

Crankiness is a chill, a pain, a scab stayed too long. It's the forming of rust on the loud machine left purposeful out there, your memory its motor. Crankiness is a well-oiled hinge on a metal door that hears itself clang shut, so opens again. Crankiness is a little thing that can fall off, like a tickle pried by a sneaky finger, or a large, clumsy beetle flying the house on a still day, so we may feel the breeze.

11:20PM; 21 February 2010; Sunday

Considering Shepherd's Care Assisted Living and its origin as Shriner's Hospital for Children. Tomorrow, Mother Bopp returns to her home at Shepherd's Care, in a new room suited for her downstairs. This writing began as I felt the firmament bearing down on my head.

Pressing sun
my crown betrays
popping fellows
foundry; Grafted
shafts all
balanced line
Roof to cellar
basement climb
once plow

field
grown trees
& stumps &

hollows of our dear's

retreat; so
leveled bricks
as earth-stacked

corn, and mortars

poured child's
ligament out
on a table

balanced lain,
& served or
bound, thus aired
their wounds;
mend forest's
holes & deer's
retreat &
broken stumps
plowed innocent.

11:28PM

B281. We Use Signs

to move people around.

When

that is not needed,
We don't use

signs.

Moving people is not don't.

When that We

signs.
around

When needed,

use signs.

The beauty is

it all comes back.

Why else would we dream
we are naked in the busy street.

B280. Clamps

I wood

knot be

free of

]re[ volition

two turn

on a dame

unheard

"You are the most miserable person
I know, and I hope never to meet you."

A tree will not say this.
A flower will not say this.
Car may.
Phone may.
A fish will not say this.
A mortician will not say this.

The earth will not speak its thoughts of you
or your misery, incomprehensible as
its survival. The earth is too sick
to speak our misery. Its
God-mind simply
blooms and

cramps
its own
private way.

Unaware we
cry, and smile
at the flowers we

harvest from God's
dying resurrected mind.

How many times

at 2AM did I
stand cutting
my hair to Peter
Pan.
Great locks
of hair, my own
Delilah, while the
foxes' tails
burn e d up the woods.

1, 9, 2, 8, 3, 7, 4, 6, 5

I would love

a conversation

about the taste of white chocolate
Lindt truffle on a 15 grain locally baked
bread, heated on power setting 8
for 12 seconds.

Let's talk about that.

And wine,
before dinner.

B278. 20 days and counting

brain cells exiting
Egypt migraines
as Nile peering
pressured to reverse
Of itself.

Does a headache harvest anything at all
after 20 days?

B277. Belonging

i get an implant.

they remove a lung.

he exceeds expectations.

she relinquishes life.

i sit and stare.

we measure years.

B276. Today Garrett

showed me I was
not in a box of grown technology.

I was assured, and leaning hand on warm-chair meeting met another warm

hand, solitary as my own—the power block, square
as lying.

But that's okay.
It really is. Delete. Delete.

Backspace.

Perhaps all that is changed is my perceptions,
the tech knowledge of me. May i say that?

Out of date, golden as the field is dull
without a fire to crackle the bones

I am.

Yes,
I do miss myself. And all you know of me is what I write.

That is all that I know, too.

B275. I search

closets. The doors
hang.
I walk streets. The curbs
run.
I climb those trees. They stand
still.

We search
where. Stand on
doors.
We climb streets. Picking
earth.
We still hang. Searching.

Consequence of unbelief - wrung

i.
devalues
consequence of belief.

Unbelief accepts wholly one truth—Death
runs to it, clawing Its way toward each underscored
disaster in the created laws of earth, matter, and eternal substance

abuse[]

One Belief transfers Life through, beyond, in spite of, overthrowing Death's powers in our physical understanding.

ii.
devalues
consequence

Unbelief
runs
disaster

abuse[]

One

iii.
devalues
belief.

Death
underscored
substance

abuse[]

understanding.

iv.
devalues
of.

accepts wholly one truth—
to it, clawing Its way toward each
in the created laws of earth, matter, and eternal

abuse[]

Belief transfers Life through, beyond, in spite of, overthrowing Death's power in our physical

B274. cave dwellers

get spongey.

my heart feels the hand of my mother's mom, holding
mine soft, both soft in the car.

My mother's hand soft,
Dad's holding hers rolling down to

Grandmother's heart carving sponges.

Flesh Is The Ceiling

of God.
Christ Is The Sealing of
man.

When disaster strikes

all one can do is count.

I deactivated my status

and lost everything
i had ever written, precious time

combing, breathing the soul's satiate layers.

Everything time layers
and i, combing, lost ever had,

satiate breathing, the soul's.

In finding nothing, everything tickles again, tendril
loves respond to more than themselves. The Drawer of

go bloom in the begun sun

God knows what

will be

. , .

k W W

b

G k w
.
W
,
b
.

If you go some

where would she?

Go—when
it counts will
be.

adverbs are spoons and crackers, appliances of quakers
mimicking hairy, wild-eyes science, subjunctive
chess.

if some where when . . . will?
?—. , , , . . . . ?

When there is nothing else to say, repeat the punctuation
and talk about typography. poetry. topography. technology and nothing.

I crave the mesh of tendrils. Only nothing

brings it back.

B273. am up

set to find
you dead

voices history blocked

water's deliverance.

am up

set to find you

dead voices history

blocked water's

deliverance.

up set you
to find am dead
history
water's voices blocked

deliverance.

Faith, prewritten
substance, deliver my blood.

B272. Some nights

in 41, we slept years, guessing what
we could not know, romantic war, wondering
weather we should look to see
tomorrow's rain, for
ever more we'd wake

and might, not recalling

dreams
ignorance

will

not watch, for even a night,
the evils borne to us in the day, and coming
morning surely brings relief on lifted stones,
our pillows reticence, reticence to dream alive,
sleeping peace.

B271. Tomorrow new

a lesser known
would be Today(')s(,) after
shock.

Is our commune
electricity, space to spacing status
pulling out our centers, earth's electric core?

The older

I become, I realize
I will have to walk away from the young
woman questioning me.

I become, I realize.
I will have to walk away from
the young woman questioning me.

how much, how futile

I felt sick to see how much was left devalued, blindly so (the photos in the drawer
strangers to their owner; or maybe no family to bury their owner who left them).
How futile the last energies were, to motivate themselves in papers and furniture writings.

B270. metronome

metro

no
me

metro
gnome.

metro
know
me

me
-tron
-ome.

B269. Repentance wais insistent on

deep ditches, digging archeology to redeem
the buried city, catastrophic memory. I sweated old
words in an empty room, above ground.

Redemption brought me away, quite free
from dusting artifact, promotion, the judgment of God.

repentance simply asked, the Early Light returned
in Jesus Christ. And Christ—Being Who He Is—brought
me to God for blessing. Insistent blessing. That was all.

B268. The full beat: an examination—1

is satisfying in
music. Held
for the value of the full beat.

is beat satisfying
full in
the music of held for value the.

is the beat
value satisfying
for full held in of the music.

is music the
the beat
of value in satisfying held for full.

is full music
for the
held the satisfying beat in of value.

is value full
of music
in for beat the held satisfying the.

is the value
satisfying full
held of the music in beat for.

is for the
beat value
in satisfying music full the held of.

is of for
held the
the beat full value music in satisfying.

is satisfying of
in for
music held value the full the beat.

is beat satisfying
the of
full in the for value music held.

is held beat
music satisfying
value the for of the full in.

is in held
full beat
the music of satisfying for value the.

is the in
value held
for full satisfying beat of the music.

is music the
the in
of value beat held for satisfying full.

is full music
satisfying the
for the held in beat of value.

is value full
of music
beat satisfying in the held for the.

is the value
for full
held of the music in beat satisfying

B267. her smile was

then, and now lights

the patterns of her face remembered

the morning I saw her drawing back the afternoon kitchen

jars of rinds, staged firm and sweet

for friends, winters.

Friends, winters then,
and now lights—jars of rinds, staged firm and sweet for the patterns of her
face remembered, the morning I saw her
drawing back the afternoon kitchen.