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Spring Boys
Slipping
In two, into
Creeks
Cross crissing
Tiger
Cat’s tails
Long
Dormant
Dirt
Missing
Weighed down
With water,
Innocence stirred
Glist’ning
Mud
Sky’s daughter
Lense
By boys blurred
Wishing
Anon
To roam.
There’s mud in the water
There’s mud in the water
There’s mud in the water
That carries us home.
World wide joys
Welcome
Whimsy
Tripping
Young men
Missed and
Mississiping
As a way-faring
Water Wolf
Ripple of
This river’s pulse
Blood
Borne daughter
From an isthmus’
Distant Gulf
Dripping
Upward
Into
Death’s gloam.
There’s mud in the water
There’s mud in the water
There’s mud in this water
That carries us home.
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 MoonShadows
Is it really like
The stories say

With confidence –
Risk
Our given parts
To play?

Trusting fate
In Great-God’s gaps
Standing

All nothing
But steady
Til some love slaps,
Demanding

Everything!

Swivel-

Tables turn like a mid-winter’s sunset…

And the moon, new,
Knew…

When to turn her head,

Yet…

We’ve times and dark seasons
Where we’ve all flung our treasons.
Still He stays, good, and He’s
Got His love’s reasons,

Con-cluded in the stars
For leaving-
Leaving scars.

Like a delta, earth-dispersing,
While
The jeopardous ocean’s fed.

It felt like a shipwreck
In the sands
Left
Salty, littered, red.

And it tugs at our hearts
Like wind through our hair

Like sunlight
Speckled skin, tans,
Bare-

But then-
But then…
Without shade’s ken,
It burns

And here again,
Toward mortal men,
The now-full moon
Turns…

Her wizened head.
Remember
How he said,

“Facing sundry trials,
We ought to
Consider it pure joy…” ?

Well,

While playing with moon-shadows,
I… want to
-I do-
Under faith’s night,
Like a boy.

Snowflower…

November 9, 2014

Snowflower

A’far inland,
So far,
Unplanned,
A new enchantment
Lilting.

A flower blooms 
Amidst the glooms 
Of winter-
Fears of wilting

Wither, wiling,
Waft away. 
The pristine white,
Silence in sight,
Yester’s
Snowfall lay,

Surrounded by 
The long-drawn night
And yet it shines,
With an ethereal light
This snow flower,
Fox-red, fay.

Motes M’love…

April 3, 2014

Mote

 

Calloused hands or calloused hearts?
For every bitter brother’s rift,
With a sliver kept, starts,
And every love with a sacrifice made.
Simple -perhaps sublime-
For even our Jests, in this, do aide.


Poet’s frozen so stiff he 
Can’t even shiver.
He’d blink, but his life’s like 
The Yangtze river.

Wake, and stare, 
And stand in awe. 
Don’t be afraid to sleep.
Whatever corners 
You 
Drift right by
Give to God; 
Who can keep.

 

To build…

February 21, 2011

 

Have you ever played blocks?

Yes. Of course you have.

Have you ever played blocks,
with
a younger child?

You pick one up,
-one block among many,

and at the first sign of stacking…

-the first hint,
that something
is being built…

-when two
now
stand taller
than one
could on its own-

your little playmate,
with one,
swift, destructive stroke

undoes…
your doing…

Where two
once stood
-needing eachother-
now ruin remains…

and with each
following attempt,
the deep, hidden well
of desire
for destruction,

is drawn from, again,
out of the depths of Adam’s heart…

and the top of your tower
never knows
those heights
which were its aim.

No higher view
than the occasional two,
does the project provide.

This, is the cost…
of building,
together…

This irregularity
is the
leaf
to the tree
that is love,

catching raindrops,
fueling growth.

In imbalance,
a greater balance
is gained.

reflected…

January 24, 2011

 

Sparkling, muddy water
-a puddle in the street,
the sound of sandy pavement
grinding under feet

as, slowly,
a speechless
way is made.
Sunlight blinds
downcast eye,

reflected in ripples
of has-been snow.
A single sound, now,
wind by heart, reflected
-a solitary
sigh.