Saturday, September 30
TAIZÉ Sam my friend August plods
the month closest to death
full of emptiness and empty
of fullness month of my birth
I pick up my red plastic bowl
sup the terrible granular coffee
I say to myself I say I will
stay with the love in front of me
the orange hall smells of feet
the monks assume their places
together we chant Laudate
dominium laudate dominum
omnes gente alleluia Sam
to my right the pleached trees
cicadas preach all over the place
like the nerve-endings of gods
Sam Owen I am the godfather
to your boy Martin I am made
from what others have seen
in me what others name in me
Laudate dominium laudate
dominum omnes gente alleluia
I kneel I search above I stop
interrupting for once in my life
I lay down my pack
whatever
the question the answer is love (Spencer Reece)