SPRING PROPOSAL

Now all this furious fuss

Of fuzz and bloom and leaf

Is past, and cherry chested

Robins after raucous song,

Build tufted, twisted nesting

Cups, so too let us declare a pair

And join to make a house

And chicks and work of woo.

What else need you, beautiful,

Sweet, but these blossoms' deeds

To tell you 'tis time to couple,

Feel sun's heat in all we do.

Birds, bees unspayed pusses,

All obey love's season's pull.

My word's my bond for life.

My arms let be yours, a wife.

J. H. Underhill

April 29, 2009

AWAKE LATE

In the silent night,

With a light on,

And in good health,

It seems that I

Will live forever.

Tell that to my father,

Who played Paganini,

But the music of whose

Sweet soul will vanish

Completely when I am gone.

As will we all,

Even our artifacts,

Homer, Dante, Shakespeare

In the fiery flood of

The exploding sun.

But if anything might

Remain, it should be love,

Love of man for woman,

Woman for man,

He for she,

Who takes within her

Body his living flesh,

Complete at last.  Love.

THAT might remain,

My love for you.

....J... ..H... ..Underhill....

March 7, 2009

TWO ROSES ONE

She was a rose,

And I was too,

I suppose, though

A deal thornier.

.. ..

We knit our knots,

Read our books,

Had our hots,

And before long,

.. ..

Budded two other

Roses, young and sweet

Sister and brother,

Now cut and gone.

.. ..

We two are still entwined,

Gnarled and old,

In one root joined,

Deep in marriage’s mold.

J.H.Underhill....

February 12, 2009

The shadow of my morning staff
Falls thrice its length ahead of me.
At noon we are black dots on sand.

By tea time, my face flames red-gold,
My staff and I cast many lengths
Behind us, as we march toward night.

How infinite the uses of a triangle.
Stick, shadow, and slanting sun.
Give the latitude of loved light.

When down I have lain
Gone will be my straight shadow,
And nothing will remain.

J.H.Underhill
January 9, 2009

An Instruction Manual for the Aging Body.

The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch.

Five Hundred Spiritual Places for Life.

The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker.

How to Die Gracefully by Father Czycz.

Such gifts pile up on my coffee table

Stripped naked of their cliché wraps.

That my children seek my death before theirs

Leaks out of their subconsciouses like

Gruelly shit out of an overfull diaper.

Away with such smug gifts.

I already think too much of death.

Rather come to me with a loving hug,

Steak, potatoes, salad, a smile,

And enough red wine to warm the while.

J. H. Underhill

December 26, 2008

Does God count

As you and I do,

One plus one

Always making two?

What if he uses an

Incommensurable scheme?

Can we ever know His truth

From our notational dream?

Perhaps the Natural Numbers

Are not Natural at all,

Mere discrete distillations

Of realities super hyper sensible.

No matter.  We'll know when

All our calculating's done

Whether life is infinite or

GOOGLING GOD

I Googled God tonight,

But no web page was there.

No big deal, I suppose,

Not really a matter of despair.

....

But still I wish I could call him up,

Talk to him direct on the telephone,

So that as death and winter approaches

I didn't feel so quite alone.

....

If I can't reach him, will you

Fill in until he calls?

That he may never get in

Touch again is what appalls.

....

J... ..H... ..Underhill....

November 2, 2008

....

ABRAHAM, ISAAC 2

The scene will not leave the soul.

Abraham, the venerable old man,

Trudging toward the mountain,

His loving son by his side.

The great man, his father,

Is thinking of the horror

Of drawing his sharp bronze blade

Across the soft throat of his son,

To obey the most important voice

He has ever heard, the one

Calling him to repudiate

The pagan polygods of Ur.

Don't say it wasn't the authentic voice of God.

It was and is.  Such is the terror of service

To The One whose sacrifice we cannot bear.

J. H. Underhill

August 13, 2008