Archives For Kevin Book-Satterlee

 

The Bench at Saint-Remy - Vincent Van GoghThe Bench at Saint-Remy
Kevin Book-Satterlee

(Painting by Vincent Van Gogh.


Poem based on
the visia divina exercises
in Henri Nouwen’s book
Spiritual Formation
)

the gnarled, twisted arm of the long-
overgrown tree; the rigid, knotted muscles
of the one providing shade and rest.
the Christ hung on the smooth-scarred planks
of a tree that once shaded the Roman soldier
or perhaps a pair of Jewish lovers
acting out Solomon’s song.

under the weary tree, ancient,
its bark wrinkles under the pressure of time
and earthly formation.  countless hours
providing shade has made it an expert
in blocking the scorching heat.

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Lenten Days on the Farm
Kevin Book-Satterlee.


The buds of almond blossoms
bud on the warming branch.
Drops from heavy rains
collect on the end of bare branches.
The ground is churned mud,
yet the grasses begin to grow
where once it was trampled
into softened, overturned farm dirt.
The winter calves are browning
a milkier hew as they grow.
Indebted to their mothers for their colors
they shed and grow their own fur.
The end of winter marks the beginning
of life, of resurrection.
On the farm I can see it
in subtle yet bright ways.
It is in this beginning that I follow
the age-old tradition of dying
when life springs forever around me
I die in order to remember.

——

Used with the permission of the author.

 

Old Toes
Kevin Book-Satterlee

with gratitude to Len Sweet.

I once tried to plant a strong tree,
uproot it from a ground
deeply fertile; and this very tree
fertilized the ground
and the other surrounding trees
to boot.

Carefully I pulled out the roots,
massaged and wiped away the dirt,
a dirt so ingrained with the soil
it caused the roots to be filthy.

After traveling, the tree began
to sicken; I quickly prepared
the new ground, and thrust the tree
in.  It withered, shriveled;
producing little.

Next to that old tree replanted
I brought over a younger tree,
healthy and fertile as the first,
yet not so accustomed
to its old soil bed
as the grandfather tree once had.
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Land of No Imagination

Kevin Book-Satterlee

Out to enjoy exhilaration
Adventure on two wheels
I find myself riding
Pedal over pedal into the wind
Thunder-pumping in suburban utopia
With my tight jersey shirt

I turn those carbon fiber wheels round
Three hundred yards to the next red light
Stop
Surrounded by generic paradise
Complete with its drive through Starbucks
(The third one in my 10 minute journey)
The fleets of SUV’s whiz by
Allowing enough cushion for me to ride safely
Safety, space, cushion, ease
I am adventuring in an insufferable land
One of no imagination.

(c) 2007, Kevin Book-Satterlee. Used with permission.
Kevin Book-Satterlee:  http://www.getok.net/poetry/