Daily Archives: May 8, 2016


I only want of you
what I can see you do,
what I can hear you say.

You intentions matter
to me, but they are not
what I need most — do

or do not, speak or 
remain silent; that’s 
where I will find you

at your most clean
and uncluttered. That’s where
we should meet — 

in the groove cut by our
behavior; that is where
you should seek me as well,

among my own voiced
and acted moments; let’s leave
the philosophy up on the high ground

we’ve cut through to get here.
Hold each other.  Hear each other.
Stay here, in the ground we’ve made.


Originally posted 10/22/2015; revised, 4/2016; revised again, 5/8/2016.

I have seen too often
how much of the holy I know
was made by devils — 

I should burn this church without mourning.
I light it, but I cannot smile while I do.
I’m sorry.

Nothing’s shining now under the sun.
What I know, what made me,
whatever I have made my own

is problematic, a fallen forest full of shock.
Felled trees row upon row,
no one seems to have heard a thing.

I should have known.
Should have been listening all along
for the sound of clear cutting.

Evil disguised itself
as birdsong and brook,
hymns to the betrayed sun,

slew and laid waste on my watch.
All the holy I know
devils’ work,

and it falls upon me now
with a roar like a deadfall,
a huge and broken tree.

I’m sorry, but I do mourn it
a little. I mourn it as it falls upon me.
I’m sorry for mourning,

but I do, even as I see
the need for this reckoning,
even as I join in a call for it.

Once-honored voices
have failed so miserably
at being their professed truth; 

they are part of what I am, 
as is now my disgust 
at how I have loved them; 


as is my confusion 
at how I love them, even now,
knowing what I know.