How do we maintain a balance
between apart and a part?
Lean too far one way, one lose’s
humanity, too far toward the other,
and one loses one’s soul.
I am I, as you are you;
yet, I am also you, as you are me,
as well. There is no other way,
other than each other. The hope
of god’s redemption lies with us.
(May 30, 2021)
from a work in progress, “process, not a journey” (66)
a grey cat twitches
her tail in the grass
.
who has time
to listen
to a sparrow’s
stressed twit-twit
from a tree
(June 19, 2020)
When I read a poem, the voice
of another being is enough.
Someone extant in the world
who for this moment speaks,
resonant with each leaf,
with each burgeoning flower.
I do not expect epiphany
to fall from Spring’s mouth
for that would not be true;
truth grows in retrospect,
a mirror to distort the past
reshaped to an image more divine.
All gods are just us
without desire for more.
(November 7,2019)
A dove descended
to peck out my tongue;
I gargled the names of god,
and spit blood flecks,
like splatters of ink,
into my broken hands.
I read without words-
the nuance in gestures,
rippled patterns on a lake.
Oblivious to the obvious
writings on the wall, and
without hope of redemption,
I mouthed my prayers
to any statues I came near.
(October 7, 2019)
“It’s up to poets to revive the gods.”
—-Jim Harrison
There are no more gods
to conjure our hope
against this darkness,
no soft rituals
filled with smoke and fire
to sate writhing snakes.
We must shape the dark
to find ourselves
a space to live,
protected from rain
and heat, a space
to sleep and be reborn.
We alone must be
the wood and spark.
(August 29,2019)
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
No flames engulf–
I burn in slow embers
which pulse like blood;
if god exists, he’s here
now between these words
I live within.
(May 15, 2019)
in explanations explanations
that happens
to him to her to us
the story starts
well before this
then as now
more unfolds
within the seams
than seems
then as now
contexts inculcate
like wisps of mist
dampening fields
as god not us
speaks from silence
(February 11, 2019)
1
Between the wild flowers
which have yet to bloom,
the orange tabby stalks through
the light of a spring afternoon.
2
Too cynical to listen to the gods—
I am not a Moses tending sheep; yet
flowers still enflame the yellow
rose bush with celestial light.
(April 15, 2018)
love and fear bond us
the collaborative
notion we are dead
without the other
that god exists
within not without
as the beast devours
the ones on the edge
together we hold
what wisdom we have
in the stories told
as we eat our bread
the dead like god live
as wine in our blood
(February 8, 2018)
“Gods make their own importance.”
–Patrick Kavanagh
All the passions, indecisions,
And inarticulate fears
Which seize you randomly
Throughout the day,
All the sudden moments
Of chaos, and clarity,
Of lust, anger, and charity
Are more than you, yet only you.
Reason cannot hope to contain
The gods’ whispered instigations;
Wisdom’s inherent in your skin,
And transcends all interior
Motivations like accomplices
Waiting nearby for the fall.
(January 23, 2018)
