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Matt Copeland

for Tim Ferris

Christ's making port between his lips to the blues

another cheery dusk of lambs for Christ's majestic views

fields exploding like emeralds under the cherry tree

goodbye to you Canadian geese landing in the rice  and

ice cubes moving through the glass like shame  and

I'm still failing to understand

so many lies from the insane ministers of intelligence

hanging from each limb perfected images of saints

on giant canvasses eviscerated stained

the drops one by one several brained fixtures

you said we'd revise with a mixture of Jesus' paint

like new angels filling our glasses at the The Red Fox Inn

trusting the taste our faith marching back to Bethlehem

and on to the sea no one really sees

forging the waves blink blink staring and disappearing

through the clouds

at the sun

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Tim Ferris was a master's candidate in Comparative Literature, an invaluable tutor in the Rhetoric and Writing Department, and a good friend of mine.  He passed away in September 2001.

                                                                        —Matt Copeland