there came the switch
The scene suddenly defied comprehension bright
streams of light poured from every pore of the Lord’s being
& glistened white from every transfigured stitch
in his clothing obscuring all else The others
awestruck knew enough to listen & watch
but Peter mumbled something asinine wanting to set
up little shrines for Christ & the two prophets
His tongue often stumbled ahead He wouldn’t let
the Lord wash his feet & then wanted to be washed
head to foot He’d follow to the death he said
but blurted denial to a little servant girl Yet
he’d stepped over the gunwale into the wake
of their storm-tossed ship he dove into the lake
to reach Christ on the beach & put first into speech
the foundation rock that would change the world
XII — John the Beloved
When my brother & I first left our father’s nets
who could have predicted this index of where the Lord
would lead? Twelve to eleven to an uncountable
expanse of stars to Persia to Egypt to Rome
to death by sword by stoning being sawn in two
beheaded & crucified Andrew on an X
cross & Peter upside down They each boldly told
of what they’d seen as they died
Domitian tried to silence me sent me alone to Patmos
where I received a vision of the luminous Word
aglow like pristine snow & pure gold
encircled by seven lampstands It was no less
dumbfounding than watching a girl who’d died
being lifted to her feet no less astounding
than having seen him aglow
with Elijah & Moses on the high hillside
Our understanding was incomplete
We were so numb to wonder that through his deep
agony in Gethsemane we actually fell asleep
then waked in panic & scattered like sheep
whose shepherd’s been struck just as he’d said
we would As I stood beneath his dying
he assigned me to tend to his crying mother
whose battered heart ached
Like thunder the earth quaked as noon imitated
midnight & he became like any other dead man
On the third day I was the one who outran
Peter to the tomb up in Galilee I was the one
who recognize him on the shore & I was among
those who watched him rise to the skies
to be seen no more This is why I was willing to die
or grow to old age proclaiming the Son of Man
The Camera Lies
484 Waterloo Street, London, Ontario
I had never thought of it as a lie let alone
of us as conspirators It’s September of 1968
& we’re posed on the porch for a photograph
As eldest son standing straight & still at the centre
of the cluster I wear a slender tie probably a clip-on
& stare at the camera until distracted last second
My kid brother squirms too young to pretend
but I help preserve the monochromatic illusion
standing on the steps of my great aunt’s grand house
Portrait With Eyes Turned Aside
I’ve seen you look into a store window
the way I look into a book
Like you I begin with what’s inside
like you distracted
when you find your image there
adjusting an errant strand of hair
Any word can form itself
unbidden
into thought
or into a thousand pictures
any image can be written back
into three-dimensional reality
A good window shows
what you already know
encapsulates
the beauty of our self-conscious world
gives courage to change the things we can
though the wind blows where it will
Confession
Doing this pleased us all the more because it was forbidden
— Augustine
The truth of the descending sun’s rays slants
over glowing hills & growing crops
radiates warmth along the flagstone walk
across the yard Orange light fills
the town in an instant spills over rooftops
&
