On Andre’s Engagement.
The rules have changed.
The slick season of grief,
Countless midnights fuel enough
And raw material,
Transmutes the law.
You must honor a father and mother,
A new father, a new mother.
You’ve weighed this seedling’s prospects—
how sure? how long
will it go on?
how pure?
Now do what you must do
To meet the dear imperative
This heart makes plain:
Stand just here,
Accompany her.
Bells, ring.
Honor them and fulfill all
The new laws.
You are far from the homestead
Of your brothers and sisters.
You haven’t a cent.
These cataracts of measureless joy
Carry you inexorably to the watershed.
You are in another country,
A new world, heaving up in the spray,
Preparing a covenant.

Did you write this? It’s beautiful. I’m gonna read it a few more times and think on it a spell.
Scrivener. June 3rd. 2010. 5:52 am.
Beautiful. Andre makes me want to be a better man and wish I looked that good in a beard. This poem embraces his Jacob-like dedication.
Love the line, “these cataracts of measureless joy…”
Renaud. June 3rd. 2010. 6:36 am.