Category Archives: Passion

Miss Diagnosis

What kind of wild-eyed
Ravenous, wet-toothed certainty
Sinks into someone’s right
To be.
Let those who limp
Take the stand
Point the finger
These designations
Are not in the diagnostic jurisdiction.

Who can help make it function
Through total disassembly?


Oh Jiminy!

These roads long unraveled-
My little plastic compass
Picked up before I traveled
Twirls under the needle, twists
Dances into the ever new
Pretty little child’s toy
Who knew how well I could do
With a trinket near-destroyed
From its first day
Now that needle floating
Guides my way
I followed that thing
When the north star fell silent
And my childhood wallpaper peeled
Under the echoes of forgotten violence
I rode the painted lines, the blue steel
Teeth of interstate highways
Midnight miles of introspection
Armed with a toy compass that stays
Pointed in the right direction.

The best things never change.


Failure to Merge

Sometimes people can only speak
As loudly as they’re comfortable
And I’m late reading their lips.
They ask me to step away
(Which is my best skill set),
And I’m late obliging only
Because I am a slow reader

But eventually I catch up
I’m always glad
To learn before I lean
Where there is no support.


Quiet Us

I don’t have any poems tonight.

In the cavernous empty spaces
The days of potentials
Cobwebbed in disrepair
I sit with my siblings
Around an antique metal kitchen table
Painted white with black ornations
Matching the trim.
It wobbles.

We sit in silence
The chairs pulled half from the table
Our legs half-spread,
Half-braced
And we’re half-here
And half a world away
Our eyes shine with galaxies spinning;
The silent testament of the stars.

Inside the quietus of these final days
We pull out the leftovers
Uncovering all the dishes
In a hodge-podge of what has been
Sprawled across the table
But no one fills a plate.
No one takes a bite;
These are the leftovers.

And this is the order of things
That have fallen out of order.


40

My borders shrink
Citizens become diplomats
Become foreigners
The gates close and there’s
A sentry standing guard
Only merchants carrying their wares
Are granted temporary passage
For a nation to age
It must defend
From threats outside,
And threats within.


Stepping In Time

Bang the drums!
Oh my spirit repeats-
Feel the marching rythm
As dirt dances in percussive beat
Feel the song, the fife, the drum
Striking the soles of your feet
March onward, Christian soldier,
In your chest resounds so sweet
An advancing hope, an eternal trust-
We will be foreigners to defeat
When the dust settles over all
And the drums, they all fall silently,

As the battles end complete.


Reading Time

I have seen the sun low in the sky,
Casting and refracting lights
I have seen the direction the clouds go by
I have scrutinized the many sights,

And I foresee the storm approaching.


Wasting My Breath

I keep dreaming I am drowning.
I struggle to breathe,
To fall asleep,
Then crash beneath a still surface
Unable to emerge through the tension
I chop at the waters

I awake in spasms
Chucking away breaths
Like playing cards at a hat
Waiting to fall again
Beneath the calm surface
To sleep.


One Masterpiece

I’ve shaped these verses
Searching for the form unshown
The composition rehearsed
Illusive and unknown
That speaks to the truths
Standing ever alone.
There’s an ember in the ashes
That must always survive,
And a young vine amongst devastation
Spreading, stretching, thriving
Producing fruit in the face of adversity
In the mass of wasted dying:
It produces new life.

I have seen this all my days,
And I chisel my words
A million different ways
Hoping to expose the form
Of the sacred work

Of the Ancient of Days.


On Time

All I haven’t done for You
Trembles in my anticipations
How I’d hoped by now to compose
Some grand gesture of affirmation-
All these years of practice, yet
I haven’t learned to be brave.
Father, when You come to me,
Come to save.