I want that slow rise
of realization as I
talk to him, the sharp
awareness I have of his
presence, the way he speaks
slants his head, answers,
unawares I am soaking him in

I'm stepping hard
on the trail of words
that I must plant down
trod on and make my way

Words I lay down
that are borrowed
from those before me

words that are not
my own, but must be used
because I've got not
else to make a way

I'm stepping hard
on this trail of words
that I must root down
walk on to make a way

paper child

Oh my child, I have
carved you from the
membranes of my mind
fashioned and labored
over you and while
in the womb, your movements
caused discomfort...

Yet, I grew you
for selfless and selfish
reason, twined as bone
and flesh are,

But I am not alone
as I struggle with the
frame of your being
nor by myself do I place
content within the structure
I am permitted to use

And as I strive to make you
She comes and cuts and rearranges
body into shapes I am unfamiliar with.
Anger rises within me, asks me to
speak thoughts that intend harm
But another says, let it be.

So she and I dance this
awkward dance of placing
you together and
birthing you
onto paper

If I could cut these words
from the marrow of my bones
shift from the blood of my heart
I would, I really would

Words that would to make sense
of this helter-skelter, bad mad
sad world;

Brother of long ago,
your words lay the
path I now tread
as I stumble through
this life.

Brother of times past,
you sang the Song
I sing as you
sorrowed through
life, walked through
the shadow of death
with Him by your side.

son of my Father,
your words dropped
from heart, cobble
the ground I walk
and pray on, lead
me to a Voice
I am beginning
to recognize...

troubled soul,
abode in dark night.
inkiness of self
bleed out and
make light
a heavy heart
entrapped
in trappings
of a world
of lies

heartbeat

ba-dum

Life, it is my own
hold within earthen hands
that spring forth young,
grow old and fall by the
way side.

ba-dum

Life, my choice
What I do where I go
what I say with whom
I stay, all the why's
of the wheres and whats
are mumbled and jumbled
to become mundane
as the air I breathe

ba-dum

Life, becomes heavy
and labors me, lashes
me to her sails rides me
mercilessly and I do not
blink because I think
Life is in my hands

ba-dum

Life, puddles and sunshine
blurred in meaningless when
days begin to walk the line
of sameness of starkness
of the great big WHY

ba-dum

Life, begins to become
lost in the sound of
another heartbeat
stronger Heartbeat
much bigger more comforting
than my own

ba-dum

Life, a Heartbeat
not my own but
something sown
into earthen hands
takes roots and knows
where to go

ba-dum

Life, a thumping in
my ears, Oh God,
pulsing in my veins
My God, I hear
Your heartbeat
in my own...

....BA-DUM

Stories

We are surrounded by them;
cloaked so tightly about us
the words soak into our skins,
text becomes a part of our bones
and we cannot help but to weave
our own,
for ourselves
for our children
for the lovers at our sides
and for strangers at our gate

yet it is not enough to
be surrounded by the rhythm
of words spoken or read on page
but as hunters we pursue
words on paper right
into our lives
or
as gathers of tales told
from mouths joyous
to share and reveal
plots that are not
of us, of we

for past words rise phoenix
to generation and generation
to them that search
and gather, to those
who weave and display;
truths become legend.
myths become truths.
And the rhythm of all
bump along, tag along
in a cycle
we construe...

and we are a melting pot
of this infinite mystery
for some of us refuse
to live out our own text
and parasite another
until difference is no more;
merge and become one

and we are a mosaic
of this unending riddle
for we cherish within
the beginnings of the self
both the borrowed and unique
and continue to strive
in our fragmented selves

stories become us and we become stories
intwined and never ending is the tale of our birth and death

you've become books on shelves
though your bones are long gone
and the learned ones of this age
yawn, skim yours thoughts
As your followers
attempt to play the Frankenstein
and fleshen your words
as though you were there -
reading to them your wit
and your wisdom...