I’m in the air
Air mixes with air
water with water
Phil says that I’ll be in the air
Lost in the other passengers on the plane
Lost in empathy for audible side sighs
and aware of twisting glances
some mundane pain and some real misery
some genuine joy would be
uncomfortable to find and experience
Can i not lose myself here?
Drinking soft water on an airplane above the great pacific?
Socialized to lose my innate and Godly dialectics
Those peaceful paradoxes that bless
a receiver with such sweet tension.
Our primitive brains seeking comfort and
death in objects of false understanding.
On Saturday I will concern myself greatly with
the first football game of the season.
the lord’s university vs. a worthy and secular foe
On Sunday I’ll bless my baby to have joy in a fallen world
This week I go snorkeling with my in-laws in paradise
Dear Tiger Woods,
I’ll give you your privacy. I’ll give you your privacy if you take mine. I’ll avert my eyes at the check out stand. I’ll change the channel when they’re talking about your personal life– but I want you to know me personally. If it’s by way of 2010 fame and internet expose or by some other way is of no consequence.
I want no privacy. I want facebook friends to blog about me to their followers. I want to be the subject of a twit or tweet. I must be made to feel that I’m influencing another being. Even Han Solo was pretending to be a loner. Tiger, buy me a puppy.
-Amerca Vespucci Capeccino III
Imagining a beach scenario
Child has red eyes
in salt water
wife has beach sand between
toes. i hunger and thirst
the bottled water works and this sandwich does
not suit me
i’d like to live
right now I
will choose death
in a 9 dollar
cheeseburger that tastes like regrettable sin
Then I will
assert without shame
the reality of my choice to said wife
man makes fire
man buys expensive meal
We will survive!
A Psalm for thine offerings
The river is a song
The stream a song
The ocean is one song.
with waves for rhythm
time kept by a wind washing
i can hear the pull and feel
it tear at my own dust and sand.
Soft skin erosion to continue this as I sometimes hum along,
She’s written a song today.
There are many songs in His song.
My God it’s beautiful!
To the ocean
I would call you a tease
if you teased.
I thought you teased
in every move.
But seeing the continuity in your
waves I know you are steady.
Harsh in beauty and discipline Impeccable in timing and flow;
You take no altering thought of me in the moment.
You are the moment,
If I could lose myself
in you then I would
feel the fullness.
I can come close with this
wind against my face.
I’ll hold this and this I’ll experience both
the contentment and the wanting.
That doesn’t matter
It don’t have time for it.
The river is bold
It cuts throats.
Flows where it can
Holds both ends -
life and death.
and begins and ends
again and again.
I don’t want to go inside.
I want to stay in your wind
Your waves are too beautiful
to leave to go indoors
and eat cereal.
These songs touch me.
I’ve felt embraced by breezes
that cannot be anything but your touch.
I’ve laughed at the thought
of my pretentious tears – feeling
your closeness on a resort
beach amidst the other tourists.
I am a fool – it’s obvious
and the best thing I’ve known for along time.
I’ll be your fool in your wind amidst your fools any day
Thank you for this small song.
at times i want to do nothing.
no need even to breathe.
just a station and statue.
a stillness like a
finished chair in a room
in a cabin in the woods
ROCKS not WATER
You are immovable
and always abounding in your works.
No ears for hearing my
Are there songs if there is no one to be sung to?
I would continue to sing to the rocks even
and waiting for your erosion I would change and decay.
Being one alone among
I acknowledge my want
for the just distant – the not yet reached.
My wonder needs a distant
home to reach for fullness and just fail.
A comely figure in the wind
A heavenly carrot attached to slender string and stick.
This is a way to wander – not unto
the lusts and moneys and fleshes.
But into wanting to be heard by waves and
wind. wanting the mountain feet to give for me as it does for the streams.
If mountains would be moved by my touch or glance then would I be content in love?
No I must be reaching.
Must be a wanderer
Must wander in deserts and reach for you – real and unknowable. unfinished
Dialogue between solar power and the “said Smith” – (or Icarus P. Pratt pleads his case demonstrating boldness and humility)
SP: Don’t fly to me foolish boy
be content with my glow
stay grounded youthful heart
keep feet on dirt and rock
only gaze toward and not at me.
where is your fear? do you not
listen to the traditions of your fathers?
You dream to be exalted
but your pride blinds things
as they are.
Everyday I reach you warmly and you feel it.
You perceive it as a beckoning call while the others would flee this heat.
Do you think yourself loved above all others?
I bathe all of these low things
with my light.
Surely you can see
Can you not see?
SS: I am youthful but I can see.
Because of you I can see.
And in your touch I feel your life
and mine borrowed.
I come to you with boldness
yes. Not in pride of self.
I surrender my self and body -
my foolish wax wings to you.
I come not to be exalted
beside you but in you.
I am nothing.
I know I am nothing – just this desire.
Even this acknowledged tilt upward is yours
and it must return!
Will you not allow me
to enter your warmth?
Will you not take me apart by
elements and allow me to become
part of your glow
I would be in your reaching
if you would let me come and live.
SP: I will
You burned me
Did you not ask me to burn you?
I did ask you to burn me.
Do you now want an apology?
I do not.
I did not know my foolishness.
I forgot the reality of being burned by that heat.
I imagined the romance of it.
It is not romantic to me now.
I am uncomfortable with blisters and regret.
Pain of discipline sounds more romantic to me right now.
You almost always forget.
i’m trying to always remember.