Monday, February 28, 2011

Love Like the Sky is Blue

If your love wasn't so unimaginable
it might just have been imagined.
But it is so sure unfathomable,
For all measuring sticks are deep, under fathoms.

To behold this love;
so bare, so bold,
so counter-weight, so rough
is to understand
when my heart, my hand,
feels things I'd never think to touch.

Can I bathe in an ocean full-up of dreams?
Could I climb out the windows of movie scenes?
But this idea of love, more than e'er could be seen
is so great, so much greater; it must be outside of me.

Sunday, February 27, 2011


I bring you news, both good and bad,
and one day happy, right now sad;
I cannot tell you when or why,
but you've got life; of life you'll die.

And in the pain which will ensue,
you'll probably wish you'd been more true
so I'll but offer one treatment plan,
that you be the best that you know you can't.


Smile; your frown shows you're alive
enough to hurt, enough to die.

Smile; your pain proves you're still free
enough; you've got yourself to be.

Smile; your love means you're not alone
enough to be without a home.

Smile; our love means you cannot break,
for silent vows our blessings make.

Smile; his love means you will not fail,
and at the end, won't die, won't pale.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

To Recreate

To see the faces as faces were,
how I learned to love them as they grew,
to see how I, so slow, came to,
and saw the hearts which promised truth.

To see those faces, still and sure,
or weeping for love's entrancing ruse,
no shame to your pretty face, but you
are prettier than your face's mood.

Thursday, February 24, 2011


Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,
This reckless driving is getting out of hand;
I was caught going thirty in a forty-five,
It takes me so much effort just to stay alive.

Monday, February 21, 2011

No Longer Can We Fear Embrace

Pain of modern, ragged wounds.
We lie alone in cold, clay tombs.

A broken body, feared or fair
buys sympathy, and comfort shared.
But hearts all shattered, cold or burnt
speak to us of strength unlearnt.

Why should spirit's greater pain
be met with empty, still disdain
when little cuts and bruises earn
the unmaking of all things stern?

Still, and find compassion here
For I know you face unknown fears.
Break, and let your spirit lie
And to all things but say goodbye.
Time has come to lean, to cry.

And Again.

To stand on edge of dark abyss
and all 'round flickers the mellow cliff
And, though dimly, light is here,
we fight to grasp and seek our fears.

To trust in those who've jumped before
who read of those still older doors,
and understand that burning light
is not in dusk, but under night.

To now complete our promised death
and bear our burden and fully fall
only then will breath be breath
and we will rise to claim it all.

For in the Dimholt, under mountain
In the pass where death is promised,
where no glimmer is ever seen
there we claim what we were meant to be.

Wait no longer for 'more to come'
hoping for ease when ease is done
but ride in faith at break of sun
for life is always worth dying for.

That Love is now, of all things self-centered
Grandest and most perfect made.
For Love we bring all to ourself
and then in Father's arms are laid.

That Christ, for sins still uncommitted
Died and bled and suffered pain.
More than all his life, he wanted
to have your heart with his again.

Suffer not more than now you must
but simply ask for what is true.
No longer look where peace was gone,
and know the whole world fasts for you.

Sunday, February 20, 2011


Witches are Witches; The King is the King
All hail to the bearer; The Bearer, the Ring.
Upon my broad shoulder is perched a dark wound,
reminding me always of watchers and tombs.

Monday, February 14, 2011


Jesus, teach me how to Love.
Teach me how to Hate the same.
Lead me into Hopes from Fears,
and let us both now break the same.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

And You, my Dear, my Happy Dear.

A man finds home stepping out of doors.
He lives in roaming on outdoor floors,
Who would sleep on grass or thistle down
but that his parents set unfound bounds.

A homely house makes not a home.
Not like a woman's eyes.
A bed and breakfast make not love,
not like a quiet, peaceful sigh.

All men cling fast to woman,
to hope and happy lives.
What word is now more grand
or more happy than that one: Wife.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Kicking and Screaming

There is an all-consuming reality
in which we make tunnels and create banality,
minds which invent and realize their maladies.

All pain is our choice not to be humbled to beauty.
The hardest of things is to see the ease of our duty.

Sunday, February 6, 2011


A dream of lovers, shooting stars.
They wear their sleeves upon their hearts.
And memories congeal in words
Which shatter like their simple swords:

"I may just tell you, if sparks untie
our insecure delights by night;
If either of us deign to try
to bring our twinkling love to light."

Glancing Blows

Glancing blows defend our homes
and dancing birds and singing gnomes
are all we now have left.

It's good to have it off my chest.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

A Picture

I am a self-portrait of my lover,
More perfectly painted than I yet know.
I am an image of a beautiful other,
to be made into my subject not by sight but by flow.