the monstrosity of beauty

god from eden sent

his brand name and logos man

the beauty of the garden left

forever to live in separateness

a resurrection of beauty for the unrepentant

a sleepy gethsemane he provided

a box of kisses to keep us subdivided

the pleasure we take until overtaken

the monstrosity that weighs upon us

gravity, the fall, the tightrope walker

stretches his host, sets souls on fire

beauty is met from the heights

ports on the snowy slopes of ararat

 devoid of sin and unconditional

a place so near yet unreachable

i saw beauty when my first was born

wet from the spillage of my beloved's womb

unrecognizable as a human form

when my horse lost the race but did his best

his sesamoid bent and up in class

my humble secretariat at the fairground stakes

accepting the blinder, hobble, and whip

akin to aaron copeland's common man

nietzsche's beast of burden in the rain
the grain that weighed inside his brain
broke the vein and bled insane

when a child does wrong and tells the truth

the punishment accepted with no excuse

disarms his jailer, the asylum's rules

foucault and ruth find their children

in the prison field of rotting corn
torn and battered beyond belief

indoctrinated by the myth
redemptive tears wash their faces

the playground forms their new found freedom

a drop of holiness spilled from the cup

moses heard the voice but spared his love

turned from the beauty of the burning bush

rare moments then when beauty caught

beauty drowns us with one slight turn

the world's geometry turns upside down

a dress of roses and auburn fire

the sunset playing upon her hair

her music derails with great fanfare 

the mechanics of the inner ear

we dream to write her image bare

in a muslin gown on a richly upholstered chair

she the angle and buttress of our faith

the morning sun born from deep blue night

grace and beauty are one trace

stephen caught a glimpse in the hither and thither

 the faint flame of beauty in brackish water

in fear and trembling he cries to god the father

slow the pace, quell the fever
he runs the beach in search of Jesus

magdalene saw it before the sepulchre

but no one believed until she confessed

it was sisyphus who moved the boulder

a glimpse of beauty so hard to bear

upon her so fast, she tried to share

thomas doubted the beauty incarnate

could not lazarus himself a dead man walking

his hand red from a bleeding wellspring

a mona lisa smile, an unanswered question

a rodin hand resculpted in reflection

a marble cushion to birth our venus

we lose our faith, we lose our breath

we lose the anchor on the ship

the flow of flesh down her arm,

a thin finger, an upturned palm,

her dress of roses, a garden psalm
a breast so round, a jeweled crown

david's epiphany on the throne

uriah's sacrificial horn

bathsheba's bath curtain torn

a still life portrait wrought in fire

a random ember relights the universe

one atom fills eternal space

to retrace the path of beauty's course

a ship on the horizon

a drowning sailor's hope

is it coming nearer?

he knows the answer, doesn't fight the current

his thirst for saltwater

persuades him to surrender to the quiet ocean

from aegean coves sirens call

their songs no mariner can resist

we wax our ears, embrace the mast

aim our arrows at the albatross wing
curse our shallow imaginations

await her arrival on a ribbon of sand
we hold the seeds in our hands
but will not sow them before a rain

beauty is all that is worth keeping from the past

we steer the ship on a common path

like fish drawn to the safety of the net

a candle traces our way home

and hope the wax won't burn our fingers

as we wait for her next unscheduled visit

O' Lord… thou makest me safe in solitude

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

i fear and tremble beneath Your sword

You are no tame God to be ignored

no Zen master or meditative mantra

can temper the steel of my disobedient nature

only by Your cross may i overcome the world

as measure by measure Your love unfolds

i delude myself before the world

revealing myself before the Lord

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

in Your hands my sinful soul uncovered

only by suffering can suffering be conquered

in Your hands i heal and hence recover

Your words i lost then rediscovered

enlighten all i know and then discard it

all is vanity for the wizened wise

appearances appear in clever disguise

what man calls wisdom is just more decline

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

Your will be done for all my tomorrows

You are revealed in triumph and sorrows

You serve them both from the same plate

bitter or sweet, sour or grate

let the vise of Your love never separate

let it hold me tight at any cost

even when common sense makes no sense at all

meekly i pause and await Your call

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

prayer not words but deeper sighs

i am with You most in quietude

totally speechless by questions why

Emmanuel in me, no selfless denier

how deep a mine i must quarry

for the Spirit to reach my soul, and body

so deep that i am united still

by Your abundant love and blameless will

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

i am closer to You than ever before

i am a truant soul who has returned

converted yes but not yet reborn

i must go Your way as i relearn

a child's love of sorrowful penitence

that charms our hearts with feigned innocence

Yea, if i could remember the kindness of my youth

the love i wrought but as an adult forgot

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

in Your fortress island far remote

Your brick and mortar sustains my hope

a new man converted beyond rebuke

i am Your prisoner within horizon walls

who must forge his own prison bars

i look to You in all of my trials

to sit with me at all hostile tables

with an overflowing cup for enemies enabled

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

with You alone the road is sure afoot

the moral silence of Existential truth

the cause of nausea and loss of hope

one last breath as we knot the rope

one breached life or still born birth

the dogwood flower will bleed for earth

and the children will call their mothers lost

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

in church, the wood, the markets fair

each crossroad met You stand there

humbling me to the most ordinaire

amongst a crowd the Holy Spirit near

through me Your words i hope to share

reconciled with all who hear

what choice have i, my cross to bear?

the prize, a gift, a palm of tears

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

Your glory breaks through a drifting cloud

like water from a summer rain pours down

baptizing my resurrected body sound

where the tabernacle of the soul is found

broken bread You have made me whole

poured out wine my cup you've filled

listening in the darkness i am stilled

God's nature known is Christ our Lord

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

shadow trees sway round and round

the fall from grace clocks me down

i once thought my works profound

as the world invaded from all around

all my labor lost, my will unbound

what we think freedom, hungry hounds

yet in every secret hiding place i found

i heard Your voice, “You must come out.”

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

green grass from mud is grown anew

we come from that same dark ooze

born again we don't deserve

as the season changes to flowered spring

in desert climes from mountain streams

the buds burst, the mustard seeds

where they drop, the sparrow feeds

his song of praises for Your blessings

O' Lord...

how safe i feel in solitude

You take from me my temptation sins

sunspots in the eyes that tear and tease

but each time i fail You say, “Try again.

Do not copy...be. By My grace you are thee.

Pray and fast then walk with Me.

from evil ye shall always flee.”

How foolish i to not believe

with such little faith You set me free.

O' Lord…

how safe i feel in solitude

Your cross, Your stripes, Your blood renews

the sweet scent of Your love, Your wounds

Your silhouette 'cross a Judean sky

in Your shadow the haunted cry

our blessings for You, our gratitude

we all must map our Jerusalem route

walk Your walk, share Your cross

share the agony of a father's loss

O' Lord…

how close to You in solitude

the less i have the more the good

enough is strength, too much escape

seduced by the world's cheapening grace

i shamed myself and buried my face

for the sake of kin and status trace

for the sake of friend and maddening race

NUMB

Numb

1

I seek the numbness of an absent will

a conquest of soul that empties and stills

I seek the comfort of a warm blanket against a chill

a rain that sweeps the avenue clean

a rain that awakens me from a pleasant dream

a dwelling reduced to my own name

where myself and wife become one the same

a place where geography and anatomy

create my esteem and autonomy

2

I seek the things of the holy race

absolved of color and construct trace

some other things that capture my fancy

things of the heart but not to envy...

fog in the morning and feeding birds

children waiting on the corner

for their school-bus to turn

reconciliation with a long ago foe

time and conversation with a friend I know

a spontaneous meeting in a grocery store

of someone from my past who left open a door

a bookmarked page that I read slow

fresh cut grass between my toes

a foggy morning then afternoon snow

a yellow rose on a gray marble stone

comfort for those who mourn alone

the openness atop a sunlit hill

the smell of cedar from a chest of drawers

reminding me of a day I lost a toy

a tub of warm water and a cotton cloth

a spring in summer where I might wash

my cuddled grandchild and her sleepy hug

the nothingness and calm of solitude

where no look can bracket my being

where all past failures just memories sleeping

3

The winter wind cures

the woolen texture of my scarf

as I turn my cheek to protect myself

prompting me to try to prove

before my toes and fingers froze

the value of holy imagination

that takes me beyond my situation

experience becomes out of focus

knowledge simply comic book fiction

they are veils, shrouds, and curtains

preventing communal observation

no one speaks if I don't hear

the greater the distance, the more we fear

as we tire over time from the faults we bear

never confessing the weight to proud to share

Repose

Where's mother? Is she home?

Shall I spend two minutes on the telephone?

Or stop to raid her pantry boxes?

I can't reach her... yet she's so near

for I am who my mother was

even though she lived by my father's cause

she a daughter of the pariah guild

her mother and father by union soiled

one by Calvin and one by Peter

one as water and one as oil

and did they know?

that love alone is not enough

unless it takes us beyond ourselves

I simply was an accessory

misplaced while in a hurry

my share of love, their comisery

4

water, mirrors, steps and stairs

these a child finds so curious

so unforgiving when I entered there

but what a pleasure to tempt or dare

until voices rose and I was scared

the bloody noses, the cuts and bruises

There will always be thorns

amongst the roses

they still haunt me in my sleep

the grassy field, the poplar trees

the hedgerow with its prickly weeds

my soul, I bent and straightened

only the leaves and I in conversation

5

I notice on my morning walk

as my body connects earth to sky

I become a broker of the eternal why

my soul overheats, I open the scarf

the hair on my arm lifts, I rub a spot

my heart misses a beat

I take a breath, secure my feet

pray I have not disturbed the peace

the scent of wet pine and spruce

drifts across the step I took

the sun's caress on my cheek

the cramp in the muscle of my leg

these are moments that memory erases

and why we miss God in so many places

I wonder if He's burdened by my pace

I trail behind so many in the salvation race

6

I bracket, enclose, capture motion

patch all the images together

as if mending an opening seam

that although to the wind was open

so well hidden it was unseen

by me but not by others

yes, I felt the breeze, there's no denying

that all those who came to care for me

so blind they were they refused to see

for fear in them to admit to we

for fear in me to simply be

that may be the greatest sin

to feign one's love as charity

7

I set aside all the metaphorical

all interpretation, all the satirical

all the critical literature

all that taxed my Being

my soul, my reasoning

all that was once so literal

for being so utterly, petty particular...

I set it all aside

I cup my hands over my eyes

and try my very, very best not to cry

And even though tears are a gift from God

I wonder when... and when it will...

when the well will ever dry?