Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Maranatha (A Fragment)

No more sorrow 
No more shade
Maranatha Jesus
And when you descend
Remember me and
This time the knees will bow, the tongues confess
This world swallowed by happiness

Thursday, May 22, 2014


Our steps forward and we hear them
Whistles under whispers
Peeping under Patters
And the tin rustles and the layers of sound
Hypnotizing and Surrounding
Each musician wrapped in the glory
Of his own voice
Each concurrent wave offsetting the next
And our steps forward
And our ears to the side
As we pass the explosion and crescendo skywards

~for Annie

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Quoth My Demons

I feel I must write
About what, you ask
Maybe love, I say reading your hints non-verbally
But it's been written I quickly follow
Maybe politics, I say and you shudder
Probably already thinking of the shrill screams
Maybe nature, I say
You stifle a yawn with the back of your hand
You were born too late, you say
Everything to say has been said
There is nothing new under the sun
You leave and I open the book of Ecclesiastes
I'll write of an inexhaustible God, I whisper

Monday, December 2, 2013

Return to Poetry

And when we return to poetry
Will the lyrical voices rise
To the occasion or sink
In the cynicism of a wonderless world
Because our hymns are no longer holy
And our praises lack a center
When we return to beauty
Will the artists forget their brushstrokes
And will the paint continually
Drip continual streaks of anger and apostasy
When we hold out our hands for bread
Will we receive a scorpion?

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Call of the Wild

I was not thinking of you
At the sink where my foot itched
And I lost track of my work
I was thinking of the call of the wild
And how dogs can’t hear it nowadays
Because the sirens are too loud
Also my foot was itchy
Perhaps it had found the mosquito
That kept my mother awake two nights in a row
Perhaps it had found other denizens
Of my bedroom walls that once held you in sleep
Only I didn’t want to think of that
And maybe the call of the wild is overrated
The adventure perhaps is learning to love
And to be loved
And maybe making a civilization
Is truly the frontier
In thinking of not thinking of you
You swam to the front of my brain
I had to blink to hold you in
To realize the adventure of you
The wild calls
And I have grown more serious

Thursday, September 12, 2013


We look, I said, in love
I said, look, we look really in love
I said the day the wind whistled
And the sand sung in biting notes
Against my legs climbing
Laborious after your legs
We look really in love, I said
You said, that is convenient, you said
That’s very convenient
And what about you, once again
Your voice as warm and strong
As your body holding me
Out of the stinging sands
Taking the lash upon your own back
What about your hands being so large
And this token so small and significant
What about this moment?
What about forever?
And I was wrong when
I didn’t think I would cry
But you are windswept, warm, and wild
And bravely contained in this man
This hand
This token
This day
I said, yes, I said

Monday, July 8, 2013


I’ve forgotten the Christ in me
That words are droplets of blessings
If spoken in due season
That love can be communicated
Through talk of God
Instead I might say
That was a great sermon
And then quickly change the subject
I’ve left behind the reason
For not forsaking the gathering together
Lost the gospel in the gossip
And The Word in the words

   Written in response to a post from the Gospel Coalition that took Christians to task for not using fellowship time to really dig in deep with the sermon and with each other.