Easter is Early

Yesterday–
The predictions of snowfilled conversations“Six to eight inches,” they said.“With freezing rain thrown injust to make things interesting.”
Only a couple of inches on thecar when I left this morning.More snow coming, though,won’t stop until afternoon.At least, that’s what ‘they’ said.
And, so it continued,even again,for most of today…
It’s more lament than complaint,a simple sign of impatience–more [...]

Pages on the Floor

Pages from Poetics littered the hardwood floor.
The book was old and the glue brittle
And the pages just fell out.
It was an old book anyway,
A trophy book,
A book placed on my shelf to impress
Those who scanned the spines.
Man, he must be smart,” they’d say.
Fact is: I never read it all the way through
And even then, it [...]

Protests Too Much

As I’m in the middle of writing the Death to Life Conversations between the old man and the skeptic, I noticed a significant problem. The old man is wiser than I. How can I write, with any degree of faithfulness, his side of the conversation? The skeptic’s voice is a bit easier because I’ve been [...]

He Sees

sitting in this chair of distinctionflailing wildly at the seeds of complacencyi can’t hear andmy eyesight’s taintedstrain to keep an air of decorumand decency
it’s so hardsometimes it’s so easyto be so hard
so farit’s equally as easyto be so far away
He seesnot as men seeHe judges not on outward appearanceHe seesnot as men seeHe’s the LORDand [...]

IDEAS

IDEASCome and go,Then disappearInto the green etherof dreams never realized.
I awake and accept–with dwarf-like resolve–the reality that’s presented.I force a smileand wallowwith existentialsluggishness.

Diary of a Song 2

It seems to me, then, that poetry is the language of a people striving to find meaning rather than the language of a people who’ve already found meaning. My recent attempt at recasting an old poem–something I first wrote so many years ago–leads me to new interpretations, new insights, new spirals of meaning.
This "new meaning" [...]

Diary of a Song

We normally think of the idea of salvation as an avoidance of something ultimately very dreadful–let us say the consignment of an individual soul to a place called Hell. This is sometimes–maybe most times–the dominant emphasis.
"Are you saved?"
"Saved from what?"
"Well, saved from damnation to Hell, of course."
"Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think so. The [...]

Embarrassing Harm

It’s the nature of my approach to blogging that stuff is “published” before it is ready. Since I don’t really have much else on my mind at the moment, (except work stuff, which is dreadfully and dangerously dull) here is something (that it is not quite finished) ripped (figuratively speaking) from the pages of my [...]

Train of Thought

Here’s a throw away:
standing at the corner store,in line to buy some mortar-boardyou heard worn as a capit makes its’ wearer wisecrusader against ignoranceand undeserved malevolenceyou hope to make the world a place not to despise
if you only had the time
A fleeting thoughtprofundityBuilding some grandphilosophyon rampant mediocrityand mounds of bad tasteamid the setbacks of frustrationa [...]

From the Archives: The White Noise of Worry

An old post with a new format.
The White Noise of Worry (An experiment in poeticizing prose)
Since last Tuesday, I
have heard an inaudible hum emanating
from deep within my gut.
It rarely ever subsides and
moans on through the day-to-day din,
through the vociferous complaining of tortured souls.
I can ignore the hum,
banish it from my direct notice.
But when quiet returns. [...]

Talk Above Babble

The late poet William Matthews once wrote in his journal:
"But here's the recurring problem poets face. The forms bristle with rust. Throw them wholly out and you've asked yourself to start from prose and make a poem. But if you're not suspicious of them and intellegently combative, they'll write your poem not for you, but [...]

Sharing Some Words

April is National Poetry Month.
I’m not an expert about poetry, but I know what I like. The last four lines in the first stanza of this poem simply sing. I like the turn in the second stanza from existential dread (night) to the brooding spirit wearing bright wings (daybreak).
Since I have nothing else today, I’ll [...]

Chasing the Blears

The sun exploded over the tree line and smeared the frost on my windshield into a watery, blearing stream. Sitting, watching and thinking, I postponed my eighteen-mile commute. My stomach, roiled with rancid yogurt, complained the way stomachs do, with gurgles and splurts.
“I don’t want to go to work,” I said, mumbled, to the empty [...]

A Pristine Ending Turned New Beginning

A lazy snow falls on Hogmanay, the Scottish word for the last evening of the year. Though it is midday, the gray sky casts the shadows of early evening.
I'm in a disjointedly reflective mood. I only want to watch the movement in the air as the snow floats to earth. My mind is not numb; [...]

Reason for Rising Early

Reclaim the morning
Before the sun rises,
Be quiet in the still dampness,
and draw a reflection
of the day gone by.
There is strength
in the past,
with shame set aside.
Never start again,
Never start again
from scratch.
Reclaim the morning
Before the heat presses
The wet sweat into soaking shirt.
Then, make a prediction
of the day yet to come.
There is light
in the future
with fear nullified.
Pray and [...]