Friday, June 11, 2010


This is Your heart,
Your perfect size
of Justice fit upon my life:
Your Verity,
the settled tie
of Your intent
reshaping mine.

Yours is the cause;
I am the way
of Spirit blown in
earthen dust;
the crust of Earth
reformed to make
out of each of us.

March 12, 2010


Caramel on my fingers,
gluing to everything
I touch,
and sticky
and inconvenient.

Every page I turn
gets covered
in a (problematic)
golden glaze.

I cannot ignore
the feeling and result.
I cannot ignore
how worth it,
and sweet.

(I cannot ignore
what you do to me.)

May 6, 2010


She is some fable,
with tulle dress and empress
resolve and regaling
redressing the grieved.
Her empty promise
to kiss me with answers:
she, one sweet legend,
I craved to believe.

Passing her entrance,
or so told by patrons
of Belief and Unquestioned
deference and cool faith--
I could not find her:
I needed her answer,
but long in doubt,
knowing no way to behave.

No absolute, purpose-put
turn of existence,
no rock-solid way I was
bent to conceive,
the shock of the life-making
sear of decisions
that rework themselves
in a dangerous tease.

Life piques our questions
toward heart-bending factions
that leave fears sent
crashing down over the edge.
She is no net,
no simple reaction;
too many trace passion
as dark or pretend.

Goodbye to you, Perfect:
in blurred lines and feeling,
I learn in the burning
and chase down my death.
Life grips its beauty
with painful confliction:
the peace in the action
of bleeding and breath.

June 10, 2010