Take the chains off of your hardened heart
Vulnerability is true beauty.

By his lips he thought us to pray
A father in heaven to call every day
Hallowed be his name
Our heart to be pure for we are in his image same
We do plead on earth his kingom to come
yet we destroy the nature to benefit some
A daily bread we ask and he doth give
Do we share it with the hungry to live
Forgiveness from him we do seek
yet in our strength do we suppor the weak
We do forgive are the words we say
yet jealousy and hatred in our hearts do stay
Teamptaions he doth clear in our way
Yet by words and deeds we sow it everyday
Deliverence we do ask by his hand
yet against evil our heart doth not take a stand
His is the kingdom power and glory for ever
A father to us who forsake us never
tis a simple prayer we do say everyday
Not by words but with action in our way

Sound of a single,
Falling leaf hitting the ground,
Like life, very brief

Lifespan is a ship
We are it's sail

Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel

I awake to the sound of singing birds;
Little birds, singing their own tiny repertoire
And their singing
Lifts my soul.
It is a small joy
But so accessible
As long as there is spring and morning.

The sun's rays reach the blind and are
Diffused.
They touch me like a golden glow
Which oozes over me
Like warm honey.

An individual bird chatters his business,
Plump and important,
Feathers fluffed,
Oblivious of the Twitter of the rest
Intent on his purpose.

And this is what this chorus is:
No chorus,
No harmony;
Just each bird singing his own tune.
No blending, no merging, no smearing, no trimming
But sharp, clear differences.

A tree stands outside the window.
Its apple green leaves in their new- born state,
Each separate on the branch,
Not yet grown into the overlapping cover they will become.
Between
Each leaf
And the next
And surrounding the whole
Is the china blue sky.
Each colour
Young
And
Clear
And
Complementing the other.

Only today-
Only now
Will those leaves look
So
Against that sky.
Tomorrow a cloud may dull the sky'
The sun may be brighter,
The leaves will have grown,
The branch will stoop a little more.

The beauty is in the transience:
That tree
That sky
That sun
That bird
That song
Now.

God of all mercy, God of all goodness
God so wonderful, always beside me
Watching and waiting to answer my prayers
God of all mercy, and goodness too

Aug. 13. 1653.

Lord in thine anger do not reprehend me
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me Lord for I am much deject
Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,
For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my soul is troubled sore
And thou O Lord how long? turn Lord, restore
My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake
For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise?
Wearied I am with sighing out my dayes.
Nightly my Couch I make a kind of Sea;
My Bed I water with my tears; mine Eie
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
Ith’ mid’st of all mine enemies that mark.
Depart all ye that work iniquitie.
Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prai’r
My supplication with acceptance fair
The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies shall all be blank and dash’t
With much confusion; then grow red with shame,
They shall return in hast the way they came
And in a moment shall be quite abash’t.

When you speak, the listener understands you. When you write, the reader understands themselves.