Angel

Beautifully strong
Wonderfully soft
Artfully witty
She is amazing... and my wife.

Wailen's First Talk

"With God all things are possible"
The young on-fire preacher said
The problem with the miricals
Is what's goin' on in your head

It's not that He can't do them, no
It is not that he lacks the will
It's your lack of faith and doubting
That keep his mighty God hands still

He quoted books in Old and New
He referenced anthropology
But nothing hit me quite as hard
As when he pointed at himself... for all to see!

He was a doubter just like me.

But in the darkest moment when
Our faith, once rock, begins to sway
And water swamps the raft we're in
We step out of the boat and pray

...

Dancing Hard

We looked on her in sunshine
They laid her down in rain
Her body dark with toxins
Her face was aged by pain

But persistent visions
Revealed her truly

Her Lord lifting up wings
Not of angels, but of joy, strength
Purple robes of majesty on her brings
Full length and dancing hard

Earth in View

She loves the clouds
Sticking her neck into the sky
And shooting off to the second star on the right
She's only nineteen and nothing says loving
Like a good-looking Italian man
Arrogant, confident, and mysterious
She's "lucky" when he calls

Her momma pulls her ankle
Drags her to the ground
And wants her head in the sand
Feet on the ground
Why is it either clouds or ground
Can any middle air exist
Or is her caution not so tall

One can fly
If you know where the ground is
The horizon is the earth in view
Like Deadilous and Icharus
Years show the middle path
With eyes that know the scars
Of flying in the clouds and loosing sight of grounding

Anticipated Homecoming

I miss her voice
Not from a phone, but right in front of me
Alto vibrato in my ear

I miss her face
I'm tired of looking at pictures
I like the subtle play of her skin

I miss her touch
Her soft sure grasp and exciting warm kiss
Someone who knows how I react

I miss my friend
She'll be on the 4AM train and I'll
Be waiting anxiously at home

For her return of me

Pity

Herself
Buried
Inside-out

And smothered
Cannot sit

Or laying
Cannot breath

Dying from
The self outside her

She is too much
We are too late

I see her
Self killing
Perhaps already dead

I wonder...
I pity her...

Listen Well

His face fell as he got up and walked in front of silent waiting:
Broke the news of his departing, in his face was grieving wailing.
As he spoke, his hands were wringing
What, to him, was death's bell sounding.

But funeral bells don't sound so sweet,
Just empty clang and shuffling feet
Of mourners passing by
A stiff now wrapped in suit and tie.

No, the bell he rang was perhaps
A tad too high a key for taps.
He rang a reveille and morning call
For yet another day for all

So, when you think the bells are tolling,
Perhaps they ring a joyful peeling.

I wait

Cool breeze that
Issues forth from
Frosty lips
Refreshes, pleases, and caresses

My lips burn with fire
Burn the air around them
Hot vacuum of the thunder clap
In ears around me

I am become the double edged sword of the tongue

Adept at being loud
I talk. I charm. I ease

But it is time
To sheath the sword and listen

The time for vulnerable peace
On my face before You

So now I wait
In unfamiliar silent frailty
To see if

You
are my faith
You
are my life
You
are my job, my hope, my love

Do not sleep
Do not slumber
Do not let my foot slip
On the sword
I will fall on it without You

Of your own accord

I keep looking for the door
Not for going out, no
For coming in

I am here and wait
In powerful anticipation
Of the moment I see you

Yes, you may
Still come

Not to see me
But to come and be
Here
With me, yet
With more than me

We wait for you
To come and be

What you were
Just as you are
What you will be
Is enough

Brady

Pushing my pawns up the row
Waiting for mistakes
Seems we've played this game before

Waiting

To play dead
Is fine sometime
Instead of living
Mine I'd rather
Sing the blues
Waiting for some better shoes

Caught

Natural eaters
The mouse and the shrew
One in a trap
The other in glue

Grounded

The ugly seed
Reaching upward
About to break
The top soil

Roots extending
Downward looking
Osmosis flow
Dirty mineral wealth

The sky has light
Ethereal
Quantum food source
Clean energy

But 'till the leaves
Break from the ground
The earth was made
As life support

Manly Breakfast

6AM and the kitchen's quiet
Whistling as I start the day
Norm walks in and grabs the bacon
Soon the meat is on its way

Later Gary ambles in, checks his watch,
Decides to stay
Hash browns sizzle on the griddle
With his easy going way

Randal is the last to show
Waiting, waiting, last to go
Making eggs, their turn arriving,
Worth the wait, the men were starving

A Veil

Thankful for stable ground
I weep for the child
Covered with a cardboard box
Not for cover, but as a veil