Category Archives: Poetry

My poetry. Mostly Collects

Sometimes

Sometimes I come back from the place
where apologies and forgiveness
do not attend to each other
laying the bought bundles of dreams
down next to the stones thrown
into the lives of children separated
from all sense of fairness in humanity
where tragedies ripple forever
across time and space tripping
all notions of common sense
remaining for any gathering of grace.

And there I find outside all the realms
of logic created by reasoned patterns
for the comfort of those who believe
the improbable place where
sometimes things just happen.

Labor of Love

I am sure I have labored here before
and danced when the day's job was done.

All my introductions and welcomes rush
into the past where smiles and laughter

hide in plain sight and affirm that I feel right
about the decisions which I have made.

Some places and some times have been better
for me than others where I felt less than myself.

Returning home I find all the love that I love
dressed up and ready to go to worship.

The Useful and The Condemned

Crazy beginnings to hot summer days
begin slow walks to the neighborhood fountain.

     Walking slow begins the neighborhood fountain
     where neighbors scream sitting on porches.

Screams shouted from the front porch by neighbors
are ignored by the dogs fighting in the dirt.

     Ignored by the dogs fighting in the dirt
     I walk by carrying a load precious to me.

Precious are the loads I carry walking
through the flower beds of yellow day lilies.

     Through the flower beds of yellow day lilies
     steps part the ways between useful and condemned.

The useful and the condemned part ways between steps
on crazy beginnings to hot summer days.

The Cracked Door

I stand in front of a slightly cracked door
illuminated, casting an image of myself 
as a dark figure forward into the present.
Though I am in a different place now
the same door opens wider than before.
The traditions of the moment recede.
Pieces of scholarship and commentary,
once part of the light, fade to coincidence.
The eternal begins to fit itself into places
where I have never been before.
I need to go, not into any realm of the divine,
but back into the space where I was once blessed.
There I do not need fateful hope
to attend to me like angels granting my every wish.
Instead I find my blessings from within
and from without the slightly cracked door.

The Burning Bush Burns






I come across strange drawings of unknown critters 
while vacuuming under the sofa and paste them
in my journal.

Twenty years later I come across them again 
surrounded by words that I have written:
abandonment, emptiness and loss.

Somewhere between the drawings and the words
I can find the meaning of the paradox resting
among all the expressions of the divine.

And then, in fullness, completeness, accompanied
by depth and variety, I can slowly remove my shoes
and turn to see how the burning bush burns.

	


	





	

		
Divine Self-Expression
	


	
			

				
			


			
	

		

I said, "Imagine removing fear
from all decisions we decide today."

She said, "You would burn your finger
or walk straight into the nearest wall."

I asked, "Would there be anything left 
holding me back from making the change 
that most needs to happen?"

She answered, "There are poems that can
be found in the movement of the leaves
blown by the unseen wind."

I said, "Any love can survive until one
comes across an unexplained drawing
in cryptoglyphic writing on the walls."

She said, "We become the chosen language
of the divine seeking to express itself."

	


	





	

		
The One Question
	


	
			

				
			


			
	

		

I remember summer days 
when birds crowded the feeder 
and more walked below 
pecking at fallen seeds.
Somewhere a preacher asks 
of those listening with ears to hear
to draw the meaning of scripture 
out of the mythical realm 
and into daily experience.
Do the birds hear the same words?
The secret given to us at dawn,
does it still remain quiet and secure
after we have given it away so many times?
Though the words of the questions
remain the same, they can be rearranged
in infinite ways to provide the answer
to the one question always being asked:
Will the birds feed today?