What might we share?
Except for some source of light
And the cello muse
I won’t pretend to know
Though
I like soft things
You like the edge
I’m drawn to abbeys
You’re from the deep
I flirt with irreverence
You respect me
So maybe we could stand
A day or year
A treaty, here
Find peace
Decide
Praise The Rock from which The Water flows
Not far from Jordan
And then, daylight
Appeared — what for, this song
This soft white light
The quiet, cool exhalation
I’d waited a lifetime
None books I’d read
No wisdom sent my way
Foretold through the ages
Oh, those kind sages!
The wholesale beauty of you
An hour, now, clutching the cold morning coffee, an acrid-filled, comfortless cup.
Still dark.
Consumed, we, with what’s bearing down at the door — bellowing “more, more, and more!”
Its roar.
Will this new blanket be warm enough, this day sustain hope beyond the front-porch light?
Windows fogged.
Still, dawn’s bright, there, without, meets a heat — long-stored and stoked — here, within.
We Begin.
Our finest hour
And, Goddamn it, lift your voice
Shriek to me from out of the grey
It has been six years and six months to the day
Set aside your pen
Unpoison your wellspring
Harmonize with me
End the endless justification of silence
Of the dark
Lived lives trump safe lives
Remember?
Demure fireworks, we
Metal salts creating light
Starry together
Space
The far out there we strive to delve into
The mired-down terra here we call home
Be brave, if you will
Act to master the wherefore
Despite arms never long enough
Lousy, camera-fumbling hands
Fingers that can’t match the shutter speed
To touch what the eyes so beautifully see
To hold that light reflecting
From the Universe Orator
Still, we of mortal’s strength
With small or great faith
Must reach celestial-ward
Look up
Cry out
Be healed
Original Thought Credit: “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
-2 Chronicles 7:14
Where, perfection, do you dwell
If not in the touch of one who loves me well
In the curiosity contained within the eyes
Of the soul searching, undisguised
For the compass contained within my center
For permission granted for which to enter
Green acres comin’
To this dustbowl, sure as hell
On holy lightning
Where is that storm I summoned
To keep me on my heels
From whom others retreat
As I instead advance
One with fierce energy
That will match intellects
Against all odds draw near
Whose heart I need not fear
