hope
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The Death of Aubrey Beardsley
Black and white The light drip of ink That looks at paper like A savior. The ocean of it swallowed up by Blank pages and Oscar Wilde’s handkerchief. Oh LORD how far I have come How these willow-thin fingers stained With sin from my pen Pull away from my mouth red Lysistrata is dead. My…
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Liminal Joys
The bookstore lights were off. Its window glass reflected red neon from the theater marquee across the street. If you peered inside, if you shaded your eyes with your hands you could see thousands of books stacked and racked their spines titillating to a man of words as what’s under a skirt is to a…
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Wholly Man
I am a restless man, a wannabe holy man my mind churns over the meanings of God’s word it deconstructs the messages into pieces that can be weighed and measured held up to the light and examined closely, like a doctor with an x-ray. I find them to be great and daunting and confusing and…
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The Newest Year
At some point across the Date Line (cutting out the small archipelagos where seabirds don’t care) the New Year somehow begins. Other than on paper, it doesn’t exist its not an admonition in the flesh or a pure astronomical event its just a reinforced reminder of how we measure the flow of time. The New Year…
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National Poetry Month 25 – John on the Beach
The island of Patmos wasn’t so bad this time of year John in his exile set up a little hermitage Took a walk down to the beach in the afternoons Spoke to the other exiles Shared his food and his stories. “I knew Christ, he loved me as a brother. He told me that I…
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At His Feet
I sat at Jesus’s feet. Bewildered by the crowd and the heat But what is there to say? I could see His face, hear His words. “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” I am a believer, I have faith. Can the Lord not hear me pray fervently, for hours…
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Twenty Years
I A few weeks after the attacks I realized that there would be anniversaries. Moments in years to come when people would stop and try to remember the event; and try and remember the nature of the world before the explosive propulsion of our wrath halted the inertia of peace. II I…
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Christmas – 2020
It’s Christmastime again. A Christmas set during a year of profound sorrow afflicted by plague, political unrest, and change. Many of us, too many to count, have faced this last year as a trial with the jury still out deliberating our fate. I know that I have prayed to God for help and guidance, and…
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The Voice
I can feel Murray Wilson smacking Brian upside the head the ringing in his ear drifting up the scales to a pitch just at the edge of human hearing a tuning fork stuck on On. How he translated that pain into stacked harmonies grabbed a thousand year old palimpsest filled with holy roundels and turned…
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The Apotheosis of Ray Bradbury
Ray Bradbury is 100! I can still see him, larger than life, when I close my eyes – he has never died. He existed on the planet of his birth for over ninety sweeping orbits of its sun. Transitory was his life, specular, reflective, but also burning with his own light like that sun. Doing…
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Carl’s Dream
We look to see the small fires in our galaxy around which float pebbles and gas balloons mostly icy rocks and dots festooned- to be able to discern from a distance their construction, we learn that we exist amongst many worlds- billions in just this whirlpool alone. We now see the exciting possibility that the…
The Numinous Cosmos 