how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations

guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.

one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.

my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.

i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did

oh

said i

you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african

childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows

what you'd
look
like

tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family

who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls

wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love

well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep

hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another

but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone

this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood

why
why
why.

the cruelty

but
yet
still
and
for
ever

(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)

you always make me laugh, still

the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives

the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.

siblings

be strong the
good kind of
dangerous

is
the



fire

this is a
song for the
brothers who survived
too much and
too many and
too long ago

it was written
what was written
this was written

what does it
mean to face
reality and accept--

everybody

need

some

hope some forgiving
some company all
of us need
to quiet the
mind and turn

up the music
take it easy
this is home

find the truth
of a truth
in a sea

of chaos, all
love is art
you are art

the world is
art and god
the ultimate

art
is
t
.
.
.

i told bunkle,
if dostoyevsky's right
that the person

god trusts is
the one to
whom he gives

a lot of
pain, think he
trusted us too

much this time,
he said well
we gotta trust

him he knows
what he's going
to do with

all of this
i looked down
at my sweatpants

someone other than
me and none other
than me had

written you say
you have faith,
where is it?

save Your people

...save me
god, i don't
have much left

but bruises today,
it hurts to
wake up it

hurts to try
to sleep it
hurts to think

please be patient with me my brother
cause this is what the crash looks like
i flew so high i knew the sky
was my friend
and now i can't get more than half awake
these drugs got me in a zombie state
the asylum didn't help and all this heartbreak
isn't helping and i know you'll understand,
i'll feel better someday

but i don't yet

a fire always burns beautiful
but whether it keeps you warm or scorches you
depends on whether it's your home
that's burning into
only ashes left
i wish i had the will to play
i wish that i had more to say
but please be patient
cause i don't yet

i don't yet
i don't yet
i know we haven't seen the end yet
so i promise to hold on, hold on, hold on,
i've never been one
to give up on
something as beautiful as you
i know time heals but i beg you to understand
why only sleep feels real today
i wish i had the strength to limp
i wish i had the strength to speak
but i don't yet
not yet

beg the weeping
heavens for me
please don't let it rain like this for too long
unless this rain means new beginnings
i can't see if it does or not

not yet
not yet
not yet

i'm so sorry for these howling cries
but this is what the crash sounds like
jesus jesus jesus
are you weeping
with me? you emptied
yourself and nobody
understood and unlike
me you were perfect,
you were patient,
as everyone betrayed,
as everyone walked away.
i haven't resisted to the point of death, i won't
till you call me home which i know is
not yet
not yet
not yet

amin abba amin
i belong to you
you won't let me go
not yet
not yet
not ever

amin abba amin

dear saint broken heart
i'm glad you're here
it's been a rough few weeks
between the cancer and the ward,
his dead brother and us losing
each other, less than nothing
i can do but it helps to have you here
your beautiful silence
your saint brokenness
on my shoulder

dear saint bro
we'll be okay
someday
someday
someday

you won't be so scared
and i won't be so blue
i'll be chirping
i'll be dancing
i'll be trying something new

just
like
you

you've always cried
with me you've always
been my dear my only
saint broken hearted birdy boy

Pain holds my hand and won't let go,
I blister at his touch, walk weeping
by his side and wake to his embrace.
Pain holds my hand.

Pain holds my hand and won't let go,
I weep beside the river, step into its waters
begging for relief, Pain looks on, he
holds my hand.

From blisters ooze our blood and plasma,
down our hands, onto our feet. Pain says
to me: Do you wish now to escape?  I know
not what to say.  Mute, I hold his hand.

Pain holds my hand, he never lets me go.
I writhe and weep and finally look
into his bloodshot eyes; for he is weeping too,
Pain holds my hand, he weeps for me.

We walk three days through deserts dry,
Pain holds my hand.  From my blood he draws
the poisons of my sins.  Pain holds my hand,
he weeps for me.

there's a lot
of love out
waiting to be

loved

a lot of
fires waiting to
be lit lord

your kingdom come

in my island
in my desert
in my city
in my family
in my friend
in me

there's a lot
of silence waiting
to be heard

sleep to sleep
in peace and
safety

there's a lot
of love
waiting

to be
loved

who god bless
no one curse

walking up the cold creek
thinking about the broken
branches that fall into

the water of the world,
thinking about the
poisons that pollute

the water of the world,
thinking about the
curses that make us

fall and drown and yet
today i have to say
the birds still sing

so beautifully i'm so thankful
for the brothers
and the friends
and the family

and i can say
well, bird, well,
hello, you,

many thanks
for
listening

the moon-stars

i wish
i could

change
the
world

I was trying
to say that
the ocean and

the night sky
are two of
my closest friends

that we are
called to be
two of the

dreamers, of
those on the
paths of silence

who often find
themselves with hands
and heads pressed

up against the
wailing walls of
a world where

man has power
over man to
his hurt.

Yet Love waits
like a pool
of stars on

the ocean’s face
waiting for us
to step into

it; friend,
brother,
I was trying

to say:
Christ never leaves
me orphan nor

you