its not like
Thanksgiving on a silver platter
everyone is there
and everyone knows
and understands its about
the food

its not like
a bundle of balloons
breathed into by airplanes
dragging you across the sky
and all you know
is that you dont care everyone can see your
underwear

its not like
a forest growing in the shade of evergreens
ferns and flowers and fantasy green
everything thriving with singing life
ecstasy on every brimming beam
dripping with heaven

its not like
sharing candy cigarettes
when youre five
and all you want to do is be cool
like everyone else
who have no idea what they’re doing

its not like
love
ever lives
up to expectation

To stand
so visibly sheathed
and so limitedly seen
above the valleys and peaks
that shriek to the heights
of windswept flights
patterned after the path of the clouds --

To stand
so far apart
wreathed in the dark
of untouched midnight hours
or silent moonlit towers
that act the part of sentinel
and diligently guard the breath of hell
that would freeze over the depths of the sea --

To run,
O, such a course
of arches and ellipses
of glorious eclipses
of degrees and centigrades
of centipedes and May parades
and the joyous blooming of spring --

To watch
with lidless eyes
the perpetual disguise
and distinguished surprise
of perennial demise
throughout grass and thyme
flower and rind
of those thought to be free --

O, my land
how grandly we seem,
the feathered you and me,
crowning each other king and queen
who design only to see
the boat from below
being content to regretfully so
decline glimpses
of high-flown flags
and full-blown sails.

You are the symphony
that swells within me
that crescendos and falls
to recall the story of humanity

You are the seaside
where we walk in stride
and dive beneath the breakers
that arrive on the shore

You are the face resolute
with eyes that prove
fear and awe and strength
open mute mouths of passive youth.


all this time I’ve wasted
all this time I’ve tasted
the spaces and lines
that separate space and time
that separates Thee from thine

for the universe to shrink
for the ground to think
the sky only imaginary
For too long I have dreamed
of a bride to marry
a groom unwary
of her profanity

Please do not tarry
as You come to me
For too long I have sat
in sepulchers outside the city
white-washed tombs
buried breathing
among the dead

every fear and doubt
every worry about
the Fount of Living Water
has spewed from my mouth
to paint the floors and ceilings
in the most unappealing green
and brown and refuse frown
For too long I have been reeling
praying for Your healing
crying at this feeling
that my debt of love
were sealing
me in.

Your fingernail
does not point instead
it peels and sheds
this sinful skinful layer
upon layer
upon layer
Your eye
does not cry instead
it sighs and said:
Sweet wineglasses are thine
upon sacred time and all that is ever Mine.