Thursday, November 1, 2018

The Prologue's End


The coulee calls one down the ridge
And the sunrise fills it up with gold
The mule deer watch and wait
And the new valley’s edge beckons

What waits for me upon the other side?
Here in these brutalist walls
Enmeshed in fluorescent light
I build upon myself and wait

With minds united and diverse
I slag through texts and pages
The digital blue-glow lights the way
And acrimonious groups parse opaque instructions
Filling the valley with fog

Here at the prologue’s culmination
I emerge from the fog-thick vale
And see three more ahead
And beyond
The glowing plain
This is, after all, just the prologue



Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Play and Interplay


A touch of bottled light reflected
Across the eyes
A dance of undulating waved
Into the ears
A breath of crisp air
with the clean decay of leaves

The play and interplay of what goes in
And what bubbles to come out

Let it out
Don’t fear
Lest it be bad
Let it be bad
Or at least, let it be not good
Not yet
Still frothing, growing, changing
Let it out
Let it breathe
Let it leave and become

Let the play and interplay not end
With the black hole of your eyes
The vacuum of your ears
Let it free
Let it back out

Teach me your play
And interplay

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Where the blue glow ends
 And the slick dark begins

Where the lean and hunch
Becomes the cower and drowse

Where the time slips
And comes off the axel
And rolls away
And we watch it go

Though it travels as fast as we walk

Meet us there
And save us from it.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Entropy of The Human Soul - Part I

Part I. The DĂ©nouement

Beginnings are so gurgling, giggling new
And I’ve had one or two
But when the time comes to end
I find that it, I cannot do

And what will it take
To find my heart and mind awake
To make more (time) than I spend
And bring this entropy to brake?

Directionless I fear
I will not find my “Here!”
That special place to wend
And weave my way to in my end

I wander in my state
While my mind and soul stagnate
My heart a supernova
Yet this red dwarf hesitates

Endings are so flickering, whimpering slow
I have a lot to show
But nothing new to add
to fight the creeping veil of woe

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Of a want of a destination

The spring of my achievement has fled
My breath now freezes on the platform
I am here with my burdens
Searching for a destination

I fled my home in winter
More cold at heart than in bones
The tracks beat the rhythm of my flight
And snow had cloaked the decay

(Yet when the train stopped in between
I dreamed of getting off
And walking into fields of white
Until the brilliance consumed me.)
Consume me.

But destinations are difficult
And I carried my burdens from the platform
To tables of slowly masticating hunchers
And lunch-supper-breakfast-lunchers

I was fed my destination at mushy lunches:
The humped backs, the shuffled steps,
The fogged eyes, the vacant stares.
I was destined for indigestion.

So I walked through uniform woods
To slide idle hands in winter pockets
But the closeness of the trees
Couldn't hide my loneliness from me

I purposefully evade my sense of purpose
And stuff the present in my eyes
Until I'm presently blind
And all I've done is flee and flee

I will carry my burdens from the platform
Past tables of slowly striking keyboard hunchers
And nine-to-five five-to-niners...
I'm finding destinations difficult.

Friday, June 15, 2012

The Crescendo


I rage, I toil, I cower and sweat.
I have not met my maker yet
and if I meet him I shall say,
‘Please come again another day.
I am not ready. I am not ripe.
The times not right!’ I’d wail and gripe.
I’d beg of him right there some sign
that he was fair; that fate aligned
and gave me all that I deserved
not less and from the path I swerved
by some dark power ill beset
to full crescendo of regret.

And in the whisper there I heard
the tempest break at silent words.
I knew, and he reminds me now,
that I deserved much worse allowed
for fate is held by piercèd hands
that save each one from fair demands.
From instant darkness, ash, and flame
and takes upon himself the blame

So God the Father please forgive
my angry heart; my will to live.
Teach me—slowly—how to die
that I might live for more than lies—
not what I see but for the hearts
That beat for thee—in distant parts—
a tune you love to hear and share:
The music of the lives you cared
enough to bring out from the dark.
And each that beats and stills you mark
as yours—this orchestra of strings.
So take my heart and make me sing:

Now in life and then in death,
may all I do; may every breath
be all for you my Elohim—
the Ever Greater Than He Seems.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The Grand Risk

And I said that if they don't
then you will
leave...
but I knew that the truth doesn't
break
down so simply,
because there
at the breaking
and in the moment of
retreat
the tale of the steps you took
and the hearts that
meet
are lost in the blur of the 
momentary.


Before the smudging
of present sufferings
there was love and
hope
smiles and
laughs
and eventually
those things that will last on
into life and memory. 
And we look back
and see
and know
it was worth it to
go past this 
flickering hesitation. 


Go past this and don't
build those comfort walls
of fluffy cells
in the cold institute of your 
self-embracing solitude. 
Go past this into that
grand risk
of a heart open to 
greater loves than this.