Thursday, April 12, 2012

Simian Saviour

image borrowed from bing

Simian Saviour

I only harbor a wet sliver
of the big truth, cuddling it
like a broken piece of stained glass
that I pull out sometimes and stare at,
trying to imagine the entire picture,
the whole abstract artfulness,
merely a perturbed puppet working
on the infinite puzzle, no landscape
vast enough to lie it down within;

but it is very much like viewing a door handle
while trying to visualize the actual vehicle,
which takes on several phantom existences,
as I have--hopscotching across centuries,
searching for more odd-shaped pieces
and the perfect holes to pound them into;

this time I am a man who sees ghosts
in his house, often--who doesn’t have to believe,
just has to remember to breathe when
I stumble through dimensional shifts--

yet though I have seen a UFO at 3 a.m.
on the high deserts of California,
inexplicably, I am forever denied
an audience with Him, who awaits me,
has beckoned to me through several
lifetimes, calling from the dark innards
of many forests, tall and red-eyed.

I do long for our inevitable meeting
during some night’s journey that will include
our encounter, and I will recognize Him,
have always known Him, tingling with regret
as I only study his haunts, document
his movements, memorizing the testimony
of those He has graced with his presence;

I race headlong down forest service roads
at midnight, sending out my silent salutations,
stopping in the depth of the darkness
to flick off my headlights and beat back
the gnawing fear mites that churn in my gut,
to no avail--only the night birds answer;

Is it possible that He has chosen
to elude me during this life--
will only appear to me during
my very last moments,
with his hirsute Jesus face,
taking my small hand
in his huge one,
smiling as He guides me

Glenn Buttkus

April 2012

Posted as #4 over at dVerse Poets--MTB

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?


Claudia said...

nice..i love the hopscotching across centuries as well as the mood in this piece...the play on the things we see and sense..always asking ourselves how real they are..great closure as well sir (so please..this has to be read with a german accent you know...smiles)

Brian Miller said...

just dont offer sasquatch your beef jerky...smiles...

have you really seen a ufo? that is def interesting...but the search for and ellusiveness of the one that waits...i know that for sure..

too bad i cant surf centuries though...that would be pretty cool...

Daydreamertoo said...

I've seen about 4 UFO's in my lifetime. And, each one has left me even more convinced, we are and never have been 'alone'
My teen and I have also (separately) seen light orbs in our house and are aware of having a ghost in at least two houses that we've lived. I purposely never told her my sightings so that I didn't scare her but, when she would tell me her own, then I shared the times I'd been 'touched' by the ghost and seen the orbs. So, I for one believe you've seen a UFO.
This is a really intriguing read.

Beachanny said...

An anthropological gallop through your inventive mind. A spiritual odyssey into beginnings and the idea of "made in the likeness of", and a fine write that allows us to see multiple possibilities of how science and poetry can blend.

Marbles in My Pocket said...

Awesome write, Glenn! I really enjoyed this, and hope you get to meet him sooner than that!

Anonymous said...

Wow Glenn. This is so incredible and beautiful and I feel like I've felt that way so often and could never ever word. You do so exceptionally. Greatly impressed here.

Semaphore said...

A tingle rang down my spine as I read this - as I thought, wow, that is an intriguingly unique way to look at faith. Well done.

Charles Miller said...

Your words and delivery are akways powerful, filled with the grit and spit of experience and tough minded openness to whatever life will dish out. I really liked this poem, and I think the spirit that moves it has so much to offer in terms of love and compassion. I don't know about why the hirsute savior has perhaps forsaken you, but I wonder whether the feeling or desire for redemption will not end in a way least expected or even dreamt of. As it is, your poem is rich with a little irony, much longing, and therefore my own understanding of how these things might work, sees great promise and hope for fulfillment of your most intimate desires for redemption.

Lane Savant said...

A wet sliver of the big truth, an apt definition of the human corporeal reality.

Anonymous said...


The search for answers to life's unanswerable questions is a faith-based search, whether we're excavating the heavens and the earth or excavating scripture.