Psaltery & Lyre

Two Poems

A grizzly snorts and scratches at the pulpit— / But I'm the only one who runs.

Let these words here welcome the ghosts. Lay sentences down like amulets upon a columbarium. --Rob Merrit, "Hungry Ghost Moon of July"

We pulse over the ledge— / split, rejoin. / Shimmy through log jam. / Jade the pool.

At my niece’s / dance recital, the fact / that she plays / both Krishna / & Krishna’s lover—

Heavenly Father, I make of myself / an offering. My God—or demon, / / I don’t much care—let me call you / Lord and obey.

We're humbled and awed to announce that Psaltery & Lyre will not be closing its doors after all.

let’s esteem each other highly / in this moment: some who are steaming and serving / some refueling

Refers to unraveling something knitted— / taking the yarn and pulling and pulling

Further on, hills with their wayward / rolling, and below, the white clover / pulls through the greening. / Momentary holy. Moist dirt.