Why did He die hanging there against the sky? The evil witness stood and lied, Peter swore, and trice denied. Why did Jesus die? – Why was He torn for crimes He never once had worn? The crush and pierce of razor thorns He bore amid the sins and scorns. Why was Jesus torn? – […]
Read more "Why?"it was very dark so trees reared up like monster men with mouths that gaped—in giant maws but dark. and close. and stark. – the night was starbled bright! a legion full of many men like scuttering roaches in the light and sticks and staves and might. – “Jesus come, step near.” the ringing call […]
Read more "It Was Very Dark"What was it like to wash the feet of sarcastic Thomas? Or hear bombastic Peter claim, by withholding, his superiority? Or what to smell the earthy mix of sweat and dirty toes while awkward glances flitted round? Or what to wash the traitor’s feet? Did he pull back or full extend, eagerer than anyone to […]
Read more "What Was It Like?"Long like thought, the water swirls. Deep the flow of life and death. Deep his thoughts, where Pilate sits in steaming mirror circles round. – Deep the flow of life and death. Deeper still the war inside. In steaming mirror circles round, he hears the spittled screams and shouts. – Deeper still the war inside […]
Read more "If Only…"Long the war had torn the world apart with souls the casualties and souls the cause. The enemy ensconced and great in art made war the hope, and hopeless doom the laws. Silent lay the prophets’ dusty truths that glittered once like lanterns in a mine. The wise men slept in silence while the youths […]
Read more "The Man"Here at crimson dawn he prays, the sounds of morning, futures near. Beside, a honeysuckle’s curled like serpentine around a pole as far away a restless chaos rides the breeze. – Low, a patterned spokenness: rising pleas and murmured, earnest prayer. A form in quiet conversation lone. Just away, a vineyard tower, Tended by the […]
Read more "Sunday Morning"I dream in 40-point, italic font of all I long to give to You— the One who loves me most. I type my aims into reality— or so I try, but everything is paper jams and out-of-inks— a mangled, tear-smudged page of faint, illegible, ugly-colored words— not the marvel You deserve. My fingers hesitate to […]
Read more "I Dream in 40-point, Italic Font"Rushing down on wild winds Angled toward the earth Inundating plips of splooshitudinous Night – Photo by: Maxim Forster Pexels.com
Read more "While I Was Sleeping"For my mother, who patiently took care of my Grandmother who had Alzheimer’s disease for 9 years. My Granny was a kind and gracious woman and never would have wanted to put my mother through difficulty. In a way, this is for both of them. I feel the things no longer fully known that once […]
Read more "The Words"For my twin nieces who are 7 months old. What would it be like if they could talk right now, or tell their older brother (3) what they are thinking? here’s a rump and rumbly thing a happy lumby loy, a smiley mumming bleeps and boops and holding me like joy. – here’s another, flumph […]
Read more "A Baby’s View"
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