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Showing posts from 2012

seasons 5

we wanted the city
and cows.
denim, both kinds. boots, for shows and chores.
a forrest hill home,    image    market and a river runs anew it.
our quiet corner of cape cods    streets shaped by roots    bikes traffic    and designer dogs bow to rescues.
our garden rests. fallen leaves foxhole sidewalks. and from our front door,     to the east    the skyline glimpses    winter.

brother's parabolah

father had two sons

eldest was success, family and simplicity.

younger was wayward, debt and visionary.

when mother died, the eldest son gave generously to the father. all of father's needs were accounted for by the elder.

eventually, the elder discovered that father kept none of the gifts for himself. rather, father gave the gifts from elder son directly to the younger.

elder was frustrated.
   with father,
   with younger,
   with mother.

father died. the younger quickly received all of the father's assets. and when the estate was finally and completely settled, the elder received only a tattered, sealed letter, written in the hand of the father. the letter was dated long before the father's death, and it read:

"elder, thank you."

father was wasteful. but elder's heart was warmed.

and now, from time to time, the elder gives also to his-   brother.

in with under

i can't possibly know the depths of any one person at any given moment. we are given the surface, in its infinite value. how someone speaks, stands or slaps hands.  any and all of this can clue us, if we receive it.

but there is more.

there are moments where i am the privileged. as a chaplain- as a friend- minister- brother. i with the rare, inside lane.

most difficult, for i cannot protect, though the helper in me is add. ever wanting to do anything. not because i can actually assist, but because i feel better than nothing. the honor denies my contrived duty.

these are the great opportunities. not to help or fix or save.  rather, i can only marvel. at the power of another to live in with and under.

football soccer

the old not yet and the new not fully
the association beacons influence among the active  national preference shifts and thrives    in one form
the tribe identifies international landscape broadens    for other forms
new tides rise   uncertain old orders pigeon hole   success
football soccer people science sex culture
neither complete nor understand
but we hope, in due time.

seasons 4

hot dogs
hot cars drinks only come with a lime.
cold showers ice pops sticky skin from aloe imitation.
work hard play harder the best of life  is under the sun.

just

there can only be one?
   just this
   or that
   please just...

how did this word happen- nike?
i'll indict adverbs in general.

don't like this word.
a desperate quick fix, always has one more just.


just lost.
   when it wasn't just whatever.


justice, justification, justin
    capable, thoughtful.

unjust and fullness, live together.


nickel and dime

sun rises and prices drop. 
early birds hunt for worm.
all scouring, for a bargain.
  some in need,
  others hoarding,
  few only thrill for haggle.

but here we have no bottom line.
no emotional attachment.
pay, please, for our sake.
not lifting again is dividend enough.
patron win is not our loss.

yard sales, odd.
humans, likely the same.
community, follows suit.

morning

Image
in the morning when i rise,
give me
   email.

when i am alone,
give me
   anything but myself


you can have all this world,  just give me    last night's scores.
when i come to die when i come to die oh, when i come to die, give me     (hope)

clever title

i am success. i win. and i want you to like it-
   commend. follow. and repeat.

i am lose. i fail. and i bet it's hard to watch.
   critique. laugh. and forget.

these are both my false realities.
i spend far more time
   washing dishes
   paying bills
   eating pb&j

i am obviously not that great
i am definitely not that bad
i am okay

we are fine- we are good in fact, but of no thanks to ourselves.


honest revolution

history has it wrong.
copernicus' world is a fantasy.
by how many axis am i spinning?
    the earths's, tilted
    the galaxy's, asymmetrical.
    and who cares about the moon anymore...
at motion
at rest
    i have never felt astronomical pivots.

the earth- facebook- life- you-
reality, more than not
                                                           revolves around me.

vending machine

i smirked as i walked away, thinking that nothing of value informed a certain decision. well, whatever... as i arrived, i was wrong.

dylan, from modern family, had a moment at dude ranch where he realized he was the furthest from home that he had ever been.  he took another step, and again he realized he was the furthest from home that he had ever been.

what has not brought me here? i believe that humans are designed to be whole, and that fragmented life voids value. 

each decision, moment, breathe- all connects the next. everything that i am, all that i had went into the decision:
     to wait
     to accept the offer
     to press dd for candy and not hh for chips

the moon

mid-day and staring at the blue sky. not uncommon. but the occasional afternoon a moon crescent unexpectedly hellos.

when i was young and in the back of the family minivan, the moon was chasing me. most nights its size was precisely that of my thumb nail.

the light of day can merely hide. for even at noonday, the moon hangs whether seen or unseen. and though i forget (and though we didn't go in '69), it is neither further nor closer than it ever was.

65 and sunny

coffee and worship
   with the people
lunch and honesty
   with good friends
afternoon nap
   with wifey
bike
   by myself.
all of these
   the same
i give thanks
   for life.

luck

there are moments where i deserve any of this,

fool.

but there are also 
glimpses in the morning
   as i roll over
   away from you.
smiles in the grocery
  when you ask to splurge
  on a two dollar item.
mere seconds,
  when i helplessly grasp
  your living beauty.

here in the space between my arrogance
and my astonishment
i thank you.
lucky me.

life and love with you
is next to salvation.

the bachelor and  (ette)s

not the lack of acting. nor the track record.

wholeness, more than monogamy, is left wanting. more than sex, more than adventure, more than the love of another- this escape reveals a separation anxiety.

he's lost his sense of self within the rosy distraction(s). she's hopeful to merely outlast the other(s).

our artless infatuation rightfully reveals the reality- fragmentation. his selection(s) segregate(s). he won't find the one(s).

designed in singularity, with a love, by an endless unity. the bachelor can only remind us of all that life isn't. may we find ourselves rated, premier and whole.

two death

i've only grieved second hand.

i've held the hand of an unknown spouse as her beloved was unplugged. i've told the boy that dad was dead, and he could see him soon. i've called the friend of a friend, for a friend, when she didn't know. 

i remember watching my brother, mother, father and friend.

this week i put on my suit twice, but the tears were not my own. they are my only gift to you. i am so sorry. i can't imagine. 

i hope-

mourning dove

east texas and southern california. bird petri dishes to some extent. but in these regions, i never noticed.

in the thriving metropolis of arkadelphia, arkansas, i took a course half-devoted to bird watching. i now know who cooks for you all. but that's about it.

today i hear the cry of a mourning dove with surprising regularity. this previous white noise now sings with shape and sadness.  

awareness, my ear's salvation. education, my mind's new freedom.

there is life, i've been told, singing from the nests of trees and the nooks of balconies. and i hear it, now, with surprising regularity.

holy none other

there is great danger, i believe in a certain definition of holy. words, meaningless, yet unfortunate implications. see further the lows of human history, there lives little that is hxxx.

forget it to move past. remember to redeem.

belonging, to something, to someone- is greater than human imagination.  wholeness trumps separation. holiness breathes life to all systems: respiratory and republic.

(un) holy

sanctuary.
mine are
  rarely quite
  unresolved
  slow-settled.
in the woods, i hear the highway.
on my chair, the a/c rattles walls.
i've found
  coffee shops can be just as still.
at desert monastery,
i ventured alone at night,
  into the dark
  against policy.
hoping.

yet even there- miles from nothing,
  the insects wouldn't silence.
the quiet, the still, the empty-
  entirely (un)holy.

rest step

i took a mickey mouse class my final semester of college, "bird watching and backpacking."

the granola taught about bird calls and minimalisms. i didn't set out to learn anything. i took the class to chill:  name some birds, walk around in the woods. easy a.

years later when i was deep in the desert wilderness of big bend national park, i  remembered a classroom point that i had perviously ignored and discredited. the final few miles included a lengthy climb, and  my lack of fitness and spirit compounded.

rest step.

i had not practiced, so mine were quite lacking in coordination. at least my mind was distracted from exhaustion. but the idea is to step, in ryhthm, with a slight-slow, pause. regardless, i made it back fine, and we got a hotel that night.

rest requires form. discipline. and contrary to popular belief, it can happen in motion. i believe that rest exists in the created order. that even though the earth is continuosly spinning, in ryhthm, it rests. everything …