As the desert blooms it remembers and is remembered The glorious ache of it all in this day of marriage is the pain of being bound. it is the internal swelling that grows like desert trees fragile and eternal A snapped twig can be a hundred years. So walk with care. Use a lightness of touch to hope and to prepare witness miraculous growth and learn to stick instead of boom. hold a place as precious and touch only sacred things. husband well, as one who lives without the option of ejection. This is now your life- Where exchanging passion’s aching for each fracture is to be held inside the breaking heart of God.

As the desert blooms it remembers and is remembered

The glorious ache of it all
in this day of marriage
is the pain of being bound.
it is the internal swelling
that grows like desert trees
fragile
and eternal
A snapped twig can be a hundred years.
So walk with care.
Use a lightness of touch
to hope and to prepare
witness miraculous growth
and learn to stick instead of boom.
hold a place as precious
and touch only sacred things.

husband well, as one who lives
without the option of ejection.
This is now your life-
Where exchanging passion’s aching for each fracture
is to be held inside the breaking heart of God.

fragmented bits of nothing saints medicated away forgotten and left to twitch their holiness at a teevee. it is a world we know falling and crumbling endlessly, halves becoming quarters and eighths and sixteenths, thirds and ninths and twentysevenths. all we have here is pieces crumbling down. brilliance is so threatening. we fear our luminescence. Lord build in us a palace. and hallow it there for our prayer to keep time.

fragmented bits of nothing

saints medicated away
forgotten and left to twitch
their holiness at a teevee.

it is a world we know
falling and crumbling
endlessly,
halves becoming quarters and eighths and sixteenths,
thirds and ninths and twentysevenths.
all we have here is pieces crumbling down.

brilliance is
so threatening. we fear
our luminescence.


Lord build in us
a palace.
and hallow it there
for our prayer to keep time.

a prayer for sermon writing Lord, make me ready in the waiting    sanctify this body    make me gold to make gold those whose weight I help to hold Lord, make me weighty in the waiting    and speak in me the Word to empty ears-    so silencing my own. 

a prayer for sermon writing

Lord, make me ready in the waiting
   sanctify this body
   make me gold to make gold
those whose weight I help to hold

Lord, make me weighty in the waiting
   and speak in me the Word to empty ears-
   so silencing my own. 

1
ministers of war an unlucky thirteen months before hitler invaded polish soil, robert johnson died. he stopped breathing, stopped singing,  stopped bending air around a guitar string.  and edward thomas lay down the pen to fight the warmachine. but he died too and stopped unrolling ink into letters into lines of verse.  now they are ghostly sound in a packed-out hall with something more to be made fortunate to fade in the storm’s still eye. all their work could fit, handwritten, into a slim file laid on a mourner’s bench. and a quiet young man is there, presiding.

ministers of war

an unlucky thirteen months before
hitler invaded polish soil,
robert johnson died. he stopped breathing,
stopped singing,  stopped bending
air around a guitar string. 

and edward thomas lay down
the pen to fight the warmachine.
but he died too and stopped unrolling
ink into letters into lines of verse. 

now they are ghostly sound in a packed-out hall
with something more to be made
fortunate to fade in the storm’s still eye.

all their work could fit, handwritten,
into a slim file laid on a mourner’s bench.

and a quiet young man is there, presiding.

collect for Luke 3:21-22 Father in heaven The Son-humbled   and humanified-   took up the stuff     of this broken world   for us to know Your redemption. Descend here, Spirit- and catch us up into Godly life where hearts are plunged   relations christened     and worship made whole  By God’s name    thrice echoing     over a set table. 

collect for Luke 3:21-22

Father in heaven

The Son-humbled
  and humanified-
  took up the stuff
    of this broken world
  for us to know
Your redemption.

Descend here, Spirit-

and catch us up
into Godly life
where hearts are plunged
  relations christened
    and worship made whole 
By God’s name 
  thrice echoing
    over a set table. 

wait among the restless dead   feeling the rumble. And be still-   stillness will calm the rumbling   death. silence will raise them.  

wait among the restless dead
  feeling the rumble. And be still-
  stillness will calm the rumbling
  death.
silence will raise them.  

a house a polaroid a ring   all the hazardous history   of the light leaking in 

a house
a polaroid
a ring
  all the hazardous history
  of the light leaking in 

a prayer for a true friend who do you answer to   when the angel appears from the darkness   and says, “my name is Gabriel”   and “be not afraid.” but with the world so vast as the Spirit whisks   all you can know is   who to answer to   Not Afraid is too much to do. so let the life you receive today burn inside you like the Son of God.    let it be to you   an angelic invitation.   and may you bring it forth under a star, answering   according to the one who answers you. 

a prayer for a true friend

who do you answer to
  when the angel appears from the darkness
  and says, “my name is Gabriel”
  and “be not afraid.”
but with the world so vast as the Spirit whisks
  all you can know is
  who to answer to
  Not Afraid is too much to do.

so let the life you receive today
burn inside you like the Son of God. 
  let it be to you
  an angelic invitation.
  and may you bring it forth
under a star, answering
  according to the one who answers you. 

1
     Stepping into the abbot’s chamber, I said, “I want to be a monk.”      He responded, “Do you really?”      ”Yes. Really.”      ”Go and find a wife,” he said. So I did. I was married and we had two children—a daughter and a son. The boy grew up to become a successful businessman with many cars, fancy suits and powerful friends. The daughter entered a convent as soon as she was able and turned to a life of solitude and prayer.      One day, my son was offered a business deal that required him to buy and tear down a nearby convent in order to build a factory. He took it and my daughter was forced from her cell. Soon after, they both came over for Christmas dinner.      I went to the abbot and told him this story.      ”And do you think something would have been different if you had joined the monastery?” he asked.      ”No.”      ”And why not?”      I was silent all that week, and all of Lent, up until easter. One Easter Day, I approached the abbot and said, “Abbot, I am ready.”      ”To become a monk?”      ”No. To not become one.” 

     Stepping into the abbot’s chamber, I said, “I want to be a monk.”
     He responded, “Do you really?”
     ”Yes. Really.”
     ”Go and find a wife,” he said. So I did. I was married and we had two children—a daughter and a son. The boy grew up to become a successful businessman with many cars, fancy suits and powerful friends. The daughter entered a convent as soon as she was able and turned to a life of solitude and prayer.
     One day, my son was offered a business deal that required him to buy and tear down a nearby convent in order to build a factory. He took it and my daughter was forced from her cell. Soon after, they both came over for Christmas dinner.
     I went to the abbot and told him this story.
     ”And do you think something would have been different if you had joined the monastery?” he asked.
     ”No.”
     ”And why not?”
     I was silent all that week, and all of Lent, up until easter. One Easter Day, I approached the abbot and said, “Abbot, I am ready.”
     ”To become a monk?”
     ”No. To not become one.” 

simple It’s very simple:    the mother becomes a little child    each time she mothers,    each day her baby breathes. It’s very simple:    from the bottom of her breath    from the quiet    comes all the work of love It’s very simple. 

simple

It’s very simple:
   the mother becomes a little child
   each time she mothers,
   each day her baby breathes.
It’s very simple:
   from the bottom of her breath
   from the quiet
   comes all the work of love
It’s very simple. 

there is a story i want to tell but i do not have the skill. it is too close to me and when i think of this story it not primal yet but floats above it, above the words: mother, priest father, freak, book-keeper, brother, cheat, speaker, abused, shepherd, divine  listener, divider, salesman, sublime. one day i will tell that story or i won’t because it tells me. 

there is a story i want to tell
but i do not have the skill.
it is too close to me
and when i think of this story
it not primal yet
but floats above it,
above the words: mother, priest
father, freak, book-keeper, brother, cheat,
speaker, abused, shepherd, divine 
listener, divider, salesman, sublime.
one day i will tell that story
or i won’t because it tells me. 

days are full and round and empty and always seen from inside.  i only know them from the edges, from the darkened bit above the horizon line. and something taps on the windows -a deeper nothing that promises less-  than the one that comes in the backdoor, a Siamese cat in a polka-dot dress. see, we’d be all tattooed and covered in glory before we’d open our faces to the sun of the morning. we’d slather our skin up in chin ups to win up the right to mate with the hot one when she’s properly ginned up. our nudity on sale to some sort of bidder, we’ll never become in any real way. but the window-tapper gets a bit louder and in her drabness of dress, we see a new day. but it’s living inside a bubble, swimming in the air to preserve the swirling walls.

days are full and round and empty
and always seen from inside. 
i only know them from the edges,
from the darkened bit above the horizon line.
and something taps on the windows
-a deeper nothing that promises less- 
than the one that comes in the backdoor,
a Siamese cat in a polka-dot dress.
see, we’d be all tattooed
and covered in glory
before we’d open our faces
to the sun of the morning.
we’d slather our skin up
in chin ups to win up
the right to mate with the hot one
when she’s properly ginned up.

our nudity on sale to some sort of bidder,
we’ll never become in any real way.
but the window-tapper gets a bit louder
and in her drabness of dress, we see a new day.
but it’s living inside a bubble,
swimming in the air to preserve the swirling walls.