paper

weekly publications carry for me no appeal
hold my interest not at all
too quickly written and sooner discarded
time is not all that is wasted

in this age of compartmentalized private transit
of earphoned i-pods compartmentalizing
and private-izing public transit
when cellphone web browsers get us
what we *need*
faster than magazines four days old
and five days obsolete

I yearn to slow down,
to feel paper in my hands
and allow my eyes to take in inked letters
again and again
to languish over literature
while tea steeps or coffee waits to be pressed

to slow down
experience a bit of sabbath with others
receive a bit of grace

to be still,
and recognize who is God