Posts for June 25, 2016



Night lends patient ears           
encourages her to whisper heavy secrets
beckons her to reckon with darting thoughts and            
lighten delicate loads of second-guessing   

She brings her weighty struggles to light then            
recognizes painful truths and sensitive needs,            
shows mercy to her tender self and            
begins to do the work of renewal  

Night crowns her audacity with a garland of praise            
awards her courage with laurels of honor   

She sits with Night and keeps watch for others who            
need her telling, unique halo of grace,
dares to share her raw vulnerability with those who            
dare to accept her black-light glow     

She lends her patient ears            
inspires others to whisper if they must but            
cheers them to cry out from their place of quiet suffering and            
unveil their own virtuous dark


I Remember

Plastic dinosaurs
Legos to build
Hot wheels
1 magic wand

Soccer cleats
Baseballs to catch
Sparring equipment
1 pair swim goggles

Trees to climb
Wimpy Kid
1 Nintendo DS

Video games to defeat
Hunger Games
1 cell phone

Viola to play
Game Informer
1 electric razor



Half the Time

People disgust me
Confusing sex with comfort
When I’d rather have my back scratched
And know what a hearts worth.

I’ve learned pretty people aren’t right
They all have something inside,
Disgusting, ugly, and and horribly trite
Keeping them from insight
Of love, passion and Christ;
what really matters in life.

Animals look at shadows for admiration,
To cover their time of consideration
Between feeling good or not good enough,
To let someone complete you is truly a bluff,
When you don’t love your self, nothing is enough.


Queen Anne’s Lace

Delirious dance,

Purple eye set on the King;

Upturned crinoline.


Night Flights

Swarms of silent lightning bugs rule the otherwise dark back yard, staying close to the grass that’s due for cutting. Above the high, broken clouds, jets drag their sounds on leashes of time behind faster flashing beacons. Sensitive to the noise of storms and celebrations, the dogs are indifferent to winged passersby, attention and concern fixed on that point beyond the horizon where the cannon roar from early fireworks resonates long after the pseudo-lightning has come and gone. I think of my grandson, partially back from Afghanistan, even as a corner of me recalls night lights seen and rumblings heard while a few miles offshore near Danang, and sigh. 



The craving for you
like the swing of a hammock:  

First, the disorienting
sky-sway; then—  

the comfort! The predictable tilt
and toss!


God’s Syntax

Be careful the words of one of God’s promises
Lest the syntax gets messed up, losing meaning.
Great rewards come unto the faithful fighting
Forces of evil in a world growing out of control,
Driven by hunger caused by malnourishment of love.
If the treasure can be found, wholesome, intact, pure,
Happiness can only follow into eternity’s wake.

Should a message be taken at its core and removed
From all the arteries that give it life that’s desired,
A magnificent promise can be turned into bitterest damnation.
The road to Heaven is filled with tricks and traps
Where human minds have projected them forward,
Creating oblivion of what was created smooth.
Know this, children of whatever faith, God has a language,
The translation of which is given to us and so vital it is
To check the syntax and understand completely what is said.
Evil reigns in run-on sentences, 
Souls die in missing commas.


Everything under the June Sun

From Courthouse Plaza to Cheapside Park,
three downtown blocks
house a marketplace of existences:
the destitute sleep and chat by the courthouse
and visit the library to escape the weather,
out-of-towners stay at the museum hotel.
Others walk past a bakery patrolled by sparrows
to a former slave auction block,
now a farmers’ market complete with buskers.
The sun shines warmly on all.


cummunity garden

Lexington Streets #4

free veggies

sunflowers hydrangeas

and smiles

community garden

the sign says Victory Church




Conventional Decision

Conventional Decision

We’ve got a Michigan kind of love:

fifty percent of my delegates
beg us to stay;

forty-eight percent
demand to go.

Too bad
fourteen of seventeen
superdelegates are already
committed to noncommitment.

You and the heart are
rendered obsolete
by the ten percent.