20151128 (secularigious)

Interior of the dome at the tomb of Pres. James A. Garfield and his wife at Lakeview Cemetery

Don’t get me wrong I like

Lakeview Cemetery the Garfield

Monument even their root beer

Which my son Nat bought when 

We were in their offices for

Something about burying Jean’s

Cremains a term I find impossibly 

Funny like so many other

Things about death memorials 

Burial of which I’ll write later 

For now it’s a beautiful

Spot I love the view from the 

Monument downtown the lake

Has an aspect appropriate to our

Not-quite-big city status even

Rockefeller’s gigantic obelisk

Has a reserved charm about it

The Wade chapel bears a

Non-denomination Unitarian

Universalist religiosity a tough

Trick to pull on an old lapsed

Catholic who sat through many

Sunday masses with multicolored 

Beams streaming through stained

Glass windows paid for by my 

Father other parish better-offs

Their names inscribed modestly 

But legibly at the bottom eye

Level where people could see

Far more churchlike is the 

Monument for the caskets of 

Garfield and his wife which

Had more the air of a

Sanctuary its dome decorated

With winged creatures in white 

Robes labelled for civic virtues

The color the style so matched

What I’d call religious now

Bent to honor secular value

A bit overmuch I thought it wryly

Unsettling to find sacramentalesque

Where I'd expect church

State better separated the age 

May not have realized a century 

Later we'd find it improper

If not mildly offensive down

Right humorous I would have

Thought such solemnity apropos

For a governmental figure the

Stature of Lincoln FDR not some 

Guy whose claim to fame 

Was reform of the post office 

Civil service whose term was

Two hundred days who was shot 

For an intraparty squabble who 

Died of a wound we are told 

Many today would have survived 

He too had his doctors known 

Enough to wash their hands 

Before probing the wound

For the bullet when I need an

Image of bombast there's nothing

Like Garfield’s monument

At Lakeview Cemetery

c. J.S.Manista, 2015

20151127 (shunning)

Warren Jeffs, FCLDS, + his wives

One sure way to tell someone

You don’t give a shit about them

Any more is to walk by them

In the morning and not say or

Do anything which could be

Construed as saying hello or

Hi I see you but I got something

On my mind right now and I

Can’t stop to talk keep going

As if the room were empty

Which I guess for them it is

Now that you don’t even 

Register with them so much

As a speck of mouse poop

Or the noise of the neighbor’s

Radio two doors away

The Amish will all do this

As a body to someone whom

They have declared unacceptable

Violators of tribal proscriptions

Never again to be afforded

A second shot at their idea of

Full humanity the same with

The Fundamentalist Church of

The Latter Day Saints Warren

Jeffs' crowd to let young men

Of the commune know they’re no

Longer needed some old dude

Has decided to marry the girl

Who might have been the love

Of their life that’s what polygamy

Means a few guys with lots of 

Wives what becomes of the

Young men who are left out

Perhaps the scales fall from their

Eyes comprehend finally it’s

A biblically based shuck and jive

Which they should have seen

Coming excommunicated they

Must walk out the gate because

They’ll never get another meal

There I would hope they get a

Chance to gather their clothes

At least maybe not their mothers

Won’t weep before the clan

Maybe in silence in the quiet

Of their corrupted consciences

Wondering what kind of God

Required a mother to give up 

A son forever meanwhile the

Chosen young girl is bedecked

With flowers for the wedding

She mustn’t talk of the young

Man ever again they will put

Up with her crying a bit so long

As she restrains true defiance

Submits ultimately to the will of

The Lord as perceived in the 

Crooked mind of the feared 

Warren Jeffs nothing that high 

Drama occurred in my case what

I had conceived as a mutual bond

Had become in my hands a rope

Still wound around me but

Hardly bearing at its free end

The curl of a knot that may

Have never been tied 

c. J.S.Manista, 2015

20150605 (odd progress)

So why did I give up this                     

For this?

Actually it was this 

                                for this   

Then this                                                  for this 

Where I am finally until they drag me 

Kicking and screaming in some dementia 

Or unconscious to a more fitting place 

c. J.S.Manista, 2015

20151126 (burdens)

This cat could be Sophia and she looks like she's kneading my shoulder

Because it’s getting light enough

To make out the old water stains

On the ceiling you think it’s

Time to get out of bed and feed you

Cat else why would you knead my 

Shoulder so occasionally using your

Scalpel sharp claws to emphasize

Desperation Sophia you don’t have 

Any idea how good your life is

With clean water scooped sand never

Having to catch a bird or mouse

To fill your tummy not to mention

The numerous choices of window

Spots from which to absorb the 

Afternoon sun why did I ever let

You form this habit I’m not this

Strict about my own rising though

I’m told I should follow a schedule

So my body learns when to produce

Insulin I think about the loveliness

Of your face the tigery striations

For which you did not need to 

Struggle or go to the gym to

Narrow your thighs your short

Tail light nimble perfect

As I stare in this shadowed dark

Into your round black eyes

I wonder what thinking goes

On behind those retinae you’re

Thinking food of course telling

Me every way you can if I 

Give the slightest hint of

Getting up you’ll start mewing

To cheer yes yes stay with it

Slippers next then bathroom

Then robe downstairs button 

The computer the accessories

Then kitchen get the cup

Water decaf punch the nuke

Yea bathroom grab my bowl

Almost there three scoops in

The tin you did it pops now

Freshen the water in my bowl

And leave me alone feed the 

Dog do whatever you want

I’m good till you open the door

Your cat creaturehood is so easily

Borne not a worry in the bunch

Not like dreaming of problems

From thirty forty years ago

Fraught with all the angst of

The original does everyone 

Have dreams that never let 

Them forget earlier terrors

Relive errors with all the

Shame and embarrassment

Supposedly withstood or 

Escaped only to find them

Again dominating the mind

The cat should only know

This of my creaturehood then

She’d know why I hesitate

To leave the warm dark of the

Covers until needing breakfast 

Jars me loose

c. J.S.Manista, 2015