We all see ghosts—at least do I. They hang, sometimes, inside the mind the vision spots: fractured slits of broke morality They linger in the memory and sometimes make their presence known to tempt or tease or taunt. – They are because we put them there and loved them—once—from deep inside and gave too much […]Read more "Holy War"
Ana, Your grave lies small beside the grass, which short–I hear the sound of mowers still rises higher than the marbled flat within the ground. This place we laid you: never once to see the sun, or the brown and dying blades of life. But now the grass is green again and now the sun […]Read more "To Ana"
Lizard leaps from stair to step poised, practiced. An adept that seems concerned lest creatures yet might see his stagecraft and forget. – – – – –Read more "Lights, Camera, Lizard"
Summer nights when daylight lingers— fingers paused on the screen door; talking warm air, crickets and fireflies— a friend that doesn’t want to say goodbye.Read more "Twilight"
Morning light, spilt through foliage, splashing the grass with gold; the simple, daily pouring of nourishment into a crumbling world.Read more "Morning Light"
The little bird that flies beneath the puffed up sky owns the gift of life and the pleasure of God’s eye.Read more "The Little Bird that Flies"
That bird’s reflection seems to wave and wing from other worlds a ripple fold of ancient hope and crystaled good (though far away)Read more "Reflections"
And maybe (somehow), off where grief will give loss becomes a better way to liveRead more "The Gift of Grief"
I carry truth on my tongue and lies in my hands and people learn by what they see and You know the entirety of me— mind and heart divorced. The mind is not enough; I would love You with my strength, the truth served from heart to hands so they and I both understand reality […]Read more "Truth in My Hands"
Over the woodlands, swooping low, teasing of summer as they go, the winds play in trees I know. They blow to the ends from the West. And every day the wide skies call the mighty king to his mountain hall. Across the fields his footsteps fall. The sun goes home to the West. Here, the […]Read more "In the West"