underline 

when i read
i keep a pen in my
hand for underlining

a long time ago this
used to be for school
or for taking notes 
but recently i underline
mostly out of compulsion--

the comfort of laying
pavement beneath a line
of words--

this is where i have walked--

& in my home town
there are railroad tracks 
that fall like
jacob's ladders 
between the creek & 
the corn fields--

i find myself balancing
on them-- telling you 
to take a picture of me--

underlining myself
with metal rail--

with the wild hope 
at the earth will
shake & a train will 
approach-- 
monstrous & mammoth--

if i lay down 
in the grass field by
my house will you 
find me with your 
black ball point pen?

veins filling with 
emphasis--

i don't think i
could read without underlining--

i have tried a few times
but i get frantic--

lost-- the ground
under me becoming
the blank face of god--

featureless--
his eyes two canvases
leaning against the walls 
of my uncle's room--

his nose a page turn--

i'm scared of staring
directly at him--

when god reads the bible
does he do so with a pen in
hand?

does he underline
his favorite moments?

the buring bush--
the wedding a cannon--
all of exodus--

maybe when he's done
he uses the flyleaf
for more stories--

underlining unwritten
parables-- 

i feel myself there
lines growing under my
bare feet--

i check the
the soles of my feet
& they're blue 
from his ink--

i try washing them
off in the sink but 
it only gets on my hands--

contagious with 
line i have accepted 
that god & i are a like
in this way--

that we both trace our
memories--

underlining our bodies
electric & lightning veined--

when i speak alone in my room--
sometimes i poise 
pen ready as i let words
leave my mouth--

underscoring them as they exit--
as if i could hold them down-- 

ankles made of lead--

i keep them in the top
drawer of my desk-- 

laugh at their 
vocabularic desires 
to find wings strong

enough to leave--

does his pen hurt when
it scores you?

metal tip digging 
a trench--

calling battlefield--

god is there 

leaning back 
on a steam engine cloud--

filling you with ink--
filling me with ink--
filling us with ink

pen in his teeth--

i underline the whole
poem again-- 

crow daring feet
i stand 
a little too comfortably 
balanced on 
the telephone wires

as they leave town