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