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Sun-circled history 
Paints famous fools 
But leaves plain brown men 
Unremarked 

And yet 
With passing years 
Who is to say which dust 
Is valued more 
In garden of the gods 

Jonahs 

Who bent to drink 

Ten thousand proven men and Gideon 
Camped close by Harod’s well 
To melt in ceaseless Midian sun 

Then came the tremulous command 
And those of us who drank like honest men 
Confiding face to cooling stream 
Were sent as frightened children 
To our tents 
While jittery zealots 
Distrusting even heaven 
Were honored by the fray 

Fanatics breed in desert dust 
And shadow every wind that blows 

Discount what histories say — 
Luck hires poets to sing sweet songs 
Where only bitterness was sure 

Your prophet Gideon 
Spoke by chance 
Or even destiny 
But not god’s voice 

What kind of oracle 
Would not forgive 
At crumbled tower of Penuel 
And slew unarmed bravery? 

Your Gideon 
Guided by whom 
Made images of gold 
That led all Israel 
Whoringly astray 

Enough of fevered dust 
I follow less inspired clay 

Guhrish 

Shield bearer for Goliath 

I say he was a damn-ed boy 
And nothing more 
Chin naked, dumb brave 
Ego and complexion burst 
In grand embarrassment 

Spurning humble gods 
This David was a hollow dream 
Who’d never seen bright 
Hawk-scraped clouds 
Sure victory’s omen 

My master scorned 
His clutch of stones 
As woman’s gleaning 
But compassion was too kind 
To slaughter bending babe 
Beside the drying brook — 
Wisdom may kill ants before they sting 
But honor holds to rules of war — 
And so we let his faltering steps 
Close to their certain fate

I’ve seen how heroes die 
Surround with battle flame 
Where pikes roast genitals 
To steamy succulence of life 
But this was mockery 
Drummed dead by common stone 
Tinkling down war-tempered brass 

What honor lies in pebble? 
What monument in peasant sling? 
He was a damn-ed boy 
And misery will track 
His naive generation 

Musca 

The third thief at Golgotha 

I did what common man must do 
When hammered clouds hide sun 
And royal guilt accuses innocence 

Of course 
I’d heard the whispered talk — 
He may have been Elias 
God-honored even now 
But who is thief to say 
Or what to do 

The other two were friends 
Straightforward simple thieves 
Embarrassed most at being caught 
Before they’d traded spoil 
For skins of grape and food 
To feed gaunt families 
But 
All profession holds some risk 

I follow Roman soldiers 
Tormentors of our carelessness 
To watch fat purses drink sweet wine 
Until they need sure fingers (mine) 
To lighten them, and I oblige 

What soul does not seek paradise 
Both here and hereafter?

Rachel 

Witness to Herod’s massacre of children 

It was not just 
That sister had all joy — 
Face fair 
Husband most civilized 
And four full sons 
Good following lambs 
That I might tend but never own 

Then came mad Herod’s fantasy 
His holocaust screamed down dark streets 
Large knocking at small doors 

But we were safe 
It was well known 
No prince was born 
Beneath bright star 
Not in our small home 
Just baby girl 
A failed mother’s hope 

So 
When two soldiers forced their way 
I laughed their search of raftered bed 
Until a final blindness 
Swept her from arms to floor 
Where dream spilled out 
Against cold stone 
To breathe one final cry 
Then silence absolute 

As God lives 
I did not glance 
At sister’s son asleep 
In cabinet-hidden innocence 

But somehow soldiers made discovery 
And bid him join their master’s grisly feast 

In Ramah tears may never cease 
But prayers for justice stopped 
Cold afternoons ago