h o m e........
p a s t   i s s u e s....
s u b m i s s i o n s....
l i n k s

 

 

..........
CARL PHILLIPS


.............
SINGING

Overheard,
late, this morning: Don’t blame
me, if I am everything your heart
has led to.

Hazel trees;
ghost moths in the hazel branches.
Why not stay?

It’s a dream I’ve had
twice now: God is real, as
the difference between
having squandered faith and having lost it
is real. He’s straightforward:

when he says Look at me when I’m speaking,
it means he’s speaking.
He’s not unreasonable:

because I’ve asked, he shows me his mercy—
a complicated arrangement
of holes and

hooks, buckles. What else did you think
mercy looked like,


he says, and demonstrating, he straps it on, then takes it off.