The Pilgrimage, Book II / Phillip Neal Tippin

          Part 6

Look at all the days we’ve worn through,
Stretched collars of faded memory
And distress’d weeks we’ve pulled
Our arms and legs through.

I don’t want to be original
To be original is to be iterative but
To be repetitive is to be discoverative
So let my wants be repetitive.

The old hand
As a young gun
Must find his hold slacken
To get his grip unslung.

Buckshot-full of character

          Part 7

I repent, Lord,
Help my unrepentance.

It’s time
To grow
In the loving arts
As roots begin to wander.

The drip of the day’s due
Dawned upon the earth.

In confirmation of the implicit.

The day when strength is found waiting
Not wanting.

          Part 8

Closeness of routine and a nestled rest—
A daily commune with the vast expanse.

Expending of days for expansive rest,
The way to make the expanse a waste

Go back to the bellows
The fire and its forge
To shadow in sparks
The expanse of the stars

Poets have the clearest words
For the lotted, paired mind.

Just keep from cutting out
Or maybe only half and mourn that—
A pattern I’ve got down pat.

Lord, uphold my own faith.
   (Luke 22:32)

          Part 9

The eunuch runes of our time
Spell ruin and the rise of barren ties

Ways of saying
What you’ve done

While the others undressed for bed
The ginkgo became sick upon the lawn.

Deserve the derision
In which I dwell, wishing
To cleanse the thoughts
By which I’m held in you.

better yet
Take myself out of my love

          Part 10

Saved from fates
Much better than death.

Even they can’t live it again
And the eidetic stabs deeper
Than what I could be pleased to evoke  

Trust to my eye
More than my
  (A place was given to house the seeing)

Our favor fall-out nature

Cave to the political
In the face of the Kingdom of Light.
   (Solemnity of Christ the King

All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2020-2022 by Phillip Neal Tippin. All rights reserved.

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