You ask for a poem. I offer you a blade of grass. You say it is not good enough. You ask for a poem. - Brian Patten

Let this be the geography of your marriage: a rain drenched summer medow in which the soul meets solitude.

Let the lay of this land slope towards a creek over which hover cardioid damselflies as they do here now.

Let the rooms of your twilights be lit by laughter that signals like a lighthouse or a firefly.

Let lines on your palm wander into the lines of the other's, where they may encounter both poems and grass.

For N & V, in lieu of a blade of grass for their wedding, this delayed poem.

...

Also this and this are two other wedding (pre & post) poems I wrote.

  
   l
u    o
o    v
s    e 


   s   
e    i
i    l
t    e
p    n
m    c
e    e           


   p
e    e
e    a
l    c
s    e




My Poems

In the green field stands a monument of grey concrete, a cross, a gravestone, a memorial

under which lies the bone crypt and in the bone crypt a dead heart.

in prayer, in pity, in forgiveness, strangers unable to cover it with god,

use rosaries.