my God

my God is too big for creeds and dogma
that fall away like clouds
after a storm
victims of time
and the second law of thermodynamics

maybe my God
feels lost in cathedrals
unsure of destiny and His famous Will

I think sometimes
God just wants to sit
at the dinner table
and tell us about her day
but doesn’t come in
a celebrity wishing someone
would see past the fame

most of all, my God
is a stand-up comedian
only we’ve missed half the jokes
and ignored most of the punch lines
at least he’s still laughing

sometimes I can hear it

sitting on the curb

cool air refreshes my toes
in this vague night
jumble of noises
mix with the sense
of utter abandonment
I sit alone
the hard pavement sea
surrounding me
there is just enough light
to write by
but not enough to clear my mind
make sense of today’s sentences
find meaning in words
I search for quiet
here with the highway
just beyond the fence
search for beauty
when all I see is concrete
lit by fluorescent orange lights
perhaps if I imagine
hard enough
a starry canopy will cover me
as it praises a fragile moon
however, I know
there is nothing
but deep blue cloud
in the miles above
playing with the tiny breezes
that ruffle my pages
saying, “enjoy me,
I’m beautiful”
indeed, the cool air
is truly what I’ve come to seek
refreshment from the stifling captivity
of hours spent inside
whiling away humid minutes
finding no escape
in anything other than
complete silence
in which peace plays
an unheard melody

and then it begins to rain.

Amos

wake, wake to hear
a voice calling in the wilderness
yours or mine, Lord?
words long forgotten
never understood
dusty with age
yet screaming with all the rage
of one not heard

how have I missed
how not seen
I have worn blinders too long
enjoyed ignorance in safety
given to others
these words, meant for me
let pride caress my false humility

fear

I am very small
unwilling to come out
from under the covers
I can taste fear
fresh and pungent
anxiety whispers cautious threats
and in the darkness
I am all alone
what happens next?

God, if you

God, if you are there
teach me that you bear no resemblance
to the Father I prayed to
teach me that you are not bound
to the words I was given

God, if you are
teach me why you exist

an anniversary poem

this day
dreamt of, longed for
suddenly conscious
of my breath
every movement of my eyelids
reality has begun to merge with dreams
I smile involuntarily
at the image of your face

that day
you put your arm around me
surprising me to live
fully
deeply

that day when I knew
forever was no longer impossible
calm assurance in your voice

that day we said goodbye
quickly
aware that dwelling too long
would injure endurance
take the joy out of letters
every few days
on the kitchen table
waiting, with love, for me

the days we fought
frustrated more by
the sudden anger between us
than by whatever caused it
arguing carefully, slowly
so aware of pitfalls
in the art of disagreement

the nights we walked to the bridge
talked of the future
by the light of highway headlights
sitting on the curb
in the rain
knowing we would sit like this again soon,
again forever
finding security and peace
in the uncomplicated darkness around us

that day
you gave me a ring
promised to be mine forever
we laughed and laughed
and couldn’t stop smiling for hours

and now today, this day
the beauty of life stretches before us
empty of everything, but hopes and dreams
plans we’ve made and changed
a hundred times over

I am wide-eyed
aware of every word spoken
the weight of each
emptying into my veins forever

the symmetry of the words,
ornate and striking
illuminates the paradox
of anxiety and excitement
doubt and certainty
idealism and reality
bound up in who you are
who I am
who we are and will be
unconditionally
from this day on.

writing (another e.e.cummings tribute)

you have to care.ful be
with words: fragile
they could break aPart
(and then) where would your
heart? be

words are not for mouths:
idle and un.couth
No! their souls belong (only?)
to poets And pens.

emotions

anticipation sits in my stomach
an uncomfortable house guest
nervousness has not arrived yet
but any day now it will
take up residence, too
and then stress and adrenalin
will both come to visit
flying their flags
for anxiety or exhilaration
I’m relying on sleep
to send them all packing
I’d rather have calm and confidence
to stay

untitled

the moon shines through my window
perhaps it too is lonely for company

used bookstores

its like a treasure hunt
through time and dust
carefully shifting piles of words
from shelf to shelf
relying on luck and
divine intervention
to locate the perfect book
in this labyrinth
of genres, old editions
then suddenly your hand
finds the spine
of some glorious anthology
and part of your soul comes home