Magnetic Poetry

There is nothing for it
But to stride ahead,
Into the fog of floating words
And uncemented meaning;
Walking not by sight,
Perceiving light
Behind a closed fridge door.

Reflection

Compose the world,
Every stroke watering imagination;
Soft white movement
Captured
In a concrete dazzle.

Steam

Translucent morning
After the fever;
Wild young prisoners
Seeping through a salt rot window
To embrace the dark decay.

Epic Rain

The air has turned to oceans of dull haze
That burst into a thousand pounding sighs;
We catch our breath, emerging from the waves
That tumble from the cold cascading skies.

Perception

There are only stretches of time
To measure the day;
Not hours, not minutes,
But scenes that pulse
And fade away.

A Reprieve

The quiet evening
Graceful at its close;
The loose ends gathering
Among the threads.....
Now what the day ahead shall bring,
Who knows?
Tonight we have
The haven of our beds.

Medicating the Cat

A simple task
So casually described;
So reasonable,
So evidently sane...
So how then does the deed
Evade our grasp;
Our every effort
Doomed to be in vain?

Bridging the Space

Imagining invisible font;
Transparent blocks of text
To keep the stream of words
From falling in
Upon itself
And blinking
Into nothingness.

Atmosphere

Bright softness of the air,
Impartial in its glow;
Unyielding
To the drama here below.
We cannot know
What beauty may belie;
A veil across the future
Is the sky.

Hope

Not a feeling.
A process requiring movement
One day, one hour, one moment
At a time.

Tigerlily

The mind of a cat
Is unfathomable.
The ways of a cat
Who can comprehend?
Our patience is coming
To an end.
Rooms blocked off
To guard what is left of our sanity;
Navigating our house
Has become a Chinese puzzle.

Boxing the Nativity

The cardboard worn
Where points have grooved a line,
The bits of moss that turn to powder fine,
The limp flaps crushed and yielding
To their folds;

A humble box this humble manger holds.

A Small Device

Words in the palm of my hand;
Symbols launch silently into the ether.
Floating on a network of clouds,
They pass each other with dreamy disregard.

The Day After Sunday

A line to complete,
A space to fill in
On a cold day,
On a slow start.
How was I drawn away again?
I'm mourning the work
That it could have been.

The Image and the Word

Creation's testament burns fiery bright
In the deep heavens, in the water droplets,
In the eye of every living thing.
We are ravished, ravishing
And yet we do not comprehend the sight.
Show me. Show me a sign.
We cycle endlessly to find.

The Spirit's voice is a low tone,
In the dark nights, in the long years,
In the waking dreaming dying
Of all men on earth.
We are chastened, chastening
And yet we do not want to hear.
Let me. Let me explain.
We drown the sound in self-fulfilling pain.

Blessed are those who seeing, bow the knee.
Blessed are those who know who they have heard.
Lord give us eyes to see, and ears to hear;
Hearts to reflect the Image and the Word.

Winter Sunshine

Radiance of a new day;
Glories unfold far beyond our vision
As we soak in the warmth of heaven.

Beginning

No right way but to start;
A change of pace, a change of heart.
One effort in the grander scheme,
To catch a glimpse of waking dream.