Do you (Poem)

I love the way you do you
With the way you keep your hair
And the mess you leave when your not here
I love the way you smell, what you murmur at two am as you sleep
And how you think I’m brilliant

I love the way you do us
The way I miss you when your in the living room
Or the way you make me go with you for cigarettes and our Sunday pastries

We’re in the body of Christ
At least that’s what they named this damn city
But I’m in paradise just the same
I don’t think blue waters over white sands would change much
Or streets of gold for that matter

I love the way you do me
I can’t finish this without a disclaimer
But I’ve been criticized by outsiders for my role in this marriage
If they only knew how we got down
They’d blush and get quiet

Do you
Do us
Do me

You poor, poor busy man
Someone should take pity on you….


You like it

A shift in the wind (Poem)


When the wind shifts direction
How powerless we are
When the sky itself dips down from the heavens
Tracing circles in the sand

We flee and dash and hide, our powers lay prostrate
When mother decides to pay us attention
All our masterfully built lives
Left a kindling matchstick reminder of our place

When with a tigers roar the doors burst open
And the roof caves in
When windows shatter and the bow breaks
It’s then that the cradle falls
The tears and anger and frustration
Are merely an infants cry to a neutral woman

“Live or die”, she says
“But mind my temperament, children
Of me you were born and to me will you return
I’ll cradle you close or crush your spine
For all it takes
All it really takes
is a flick of my wrist and a shift in the wind.”

Oh, Professor (a psalm for knowledge)

Oh professor
Teach me your stories
Tell me your truth
And give to me your life’s ambition
So that I may carry its burden with me

Teach me, weigh me down
Bid my mind to think
To ponder, to wonder,
And put lines on my face
And truth in my heart

Be that Thorn in my side
The lessons that cause me to question
Turn what I know as concrete truth
Into a porous vessel

Heave it upon my shoulders
And bend my back a little
With the weight of the world
So that I become not a sophist
But a speaker of true things

I’d rather be blinded by hot white light
And walk in darkness with ears that know truth once it’s spoken
Than be shrouded in foggy uncertainty
With only a moments notice before tripping over my feet

I’ll accept it gladly, the pain and the pleasure
That makes me odd, rather queer
And know that while I can change a life
I’ll be heartbroken to know, even with this collective knowledge
That I am powerless to change the world

Jesus and Me (A Christmas poem)

Silver lights all aglow
In window sills and bows
Decorations through the trees
The three Wisemen praying on their knees

Before a manger on the lawn
In front of homes lit up till dawn
And here I am just waiting to see

What Christmas time bring this year
Will it be full of cheer
Will I wake up in a bed
With the one I love so dear
Will I sing amazing grace?
With a smile upon my face
Or will it be just Jesus and me?

Decorations of blue, red, and green
The prettiest lights you’ve ever seen
Adorning homes so warm and bright
On these cold December nights
Children sleeping in their beds
Sugar plums dancing in their heads
And here I am just waiting to see.

What will Christmas time bring this year
Will it be wonderful, my dear
Will the world be at peace
Will there be joy, and enough to eat
Will someone pray, will someone sing?
Peace on earth for every human being?

Or will it be, just Jesus and me?

Here I stand in my bare feet!
With barely enough to eat!

Will it be just Jesus and me?


My mother taught me a song when I was a young kid called, Pretty Paper, written and performed by Willie Nelson.  And every year, I listen to it. And every year, it reminds me that there are those who are less fortunate than I am .

It’s easy to get caught up in the craziness of the world. It’s easy to get isolated into your own myriad problems and get tunnel vision over things like the Holidays. And sometimes, even though this is supposed to be a joyous time for people, we can kind of get the blues.  Sometimes we can’t afford to give the best gifts. Sometimes we can’t afford to get very much at all.  But if you can read this, if you have access to something that allows you to read this, then perhaps we can take a moment and be thankful for what we do have.

A warm bed.

A roof over our heads.

Food in our bellies.

Maybe you’re being pulled in different directions and your frazzled. Or maybe like that Carrie Underwood song goes, “It’s been a long hard year.” And maybe this year Christmas isn’t as sweet as it’s been in times passed. But maybe we can take a moment, and stop, and consider what we do have. And be thankful for it.  And maybe we can remember that this holiday is one of giving.

But wherever you are and however you feel. Remember, you are not alone.

Down by the riverside (poem)

When time is tender
And the moon is full
Lay me down in a bed of grass
Down by the riverside

As the water is cool with the rush
And the clay baked warm from the suns touch
Let’s meet at the edge together
By the riverside, down by the riverside

You touch me here, I’ll touch you there
Let our clothes spill everywhere
Till were naked in the air
Down by the riverside

We won’t need no blanket for warmth
No pillow to hold our heads
Our arms will cradle us both
And the grass’ll be our beds
On the riverside, down by the riverside

With age old motion

you’ll belong to me like the river belongs to the ocean

our hearts sated by sweet emotion

spent, and weary we’ll sleep there

on the riverside, down by the riverside

And the night will give way to the day
After witnessing the love we made
Two hearts naked and unafraid
Down by the riverside.

Slip Away Memory (Poem)



Slip away
Faint music
In my mind
Tinkle tattle toiling there
Stirring memories like dust
Dancing in the golden shafts of consciousness

Can you hear it playing
Like a giggle from another when
A moan of pleasure from a long dead love
Dancing upon the wind
Above the furniture’s dust cover

Let me dance!
In my private memory
Singing along with the entombed tune
Naked, remembering
My feet bare on hardwood floors of my mind

Won’t you stay a little longer
Phantom stray bit of yesterday
Dance with me! Sing with me
Haunt me the way you used to
Stray bit of music
Slipping away….

Listen to the song he sings…(Poem)

Don’t listen to the words of man
listen to the song he sings
above his head, from in his heart
listen to the gentle breeze


sunlight drifts between the leaves
dappled rays of golden light
darkness comes a shivering wind
leaving mans soul a wandering blight


Listen above the rising din
above the static charge
listen above the rumbling thunder
above the river run red with blood
dancing there among the stars

A song so sweet that heaven bends
its ear toward the earth
to hear the beating in his ribs
the muscle of his heart


Its constant as chaos rises
when chaos dances without a cause
thump, thump, thump it goes
nary a second in a pause

In that beat is the truth
far truer than any creed or belief
that life is better yet lived
free from bitter grief

Man has the answer cast in flesh
the air within his lungs
his soul cast into his mortal frame
truer now than when life begun

Don’t listen to the words of man
listen only to the song he sings
deep inside the cage of bone
this constant steady thing


hear that?
its life

Its truth…


Winter- the Fourth Sister (Poem)

Make way!
Make way!
Autumn is leaving, the fourth sister she draweth nigh!
gone are the harvest days of farmers and plow
as thundersnow arcs across the sky.

Winter, my dear, is here once again
freezing naked glass in window pane
wooden doors bow out, and fir trees begin to bend
from the remnants of autumn’s rain

Astride the back of a century’s old stag
both white from ages long gone
white hands grasp the reigns, the beast carries his charge
as the fourth sister sings a wintertide song

“Come Artic wind! Come here, once again!
freeze the day and turn it to night
turn the lakes to stone
the world the color of bone
with the power of your celestial might!”

And the wind doth obey, the skies steel grey
the way a peasant would obey a queen
for as she sits astride her eighteen point mount
she wears a ice cycle crown for the world to see

And this is the way it’ll be until May,
till the wildest of the sisters arrive
bringing warmth from the south
the sisters will battle it out
above the ground far up in the sky

But for now the world sleeps
in dreams so deep, lulled there
by the weight and warmth of snow
the sun’s long gone
the nights grow long
set ablaze by the moon’s silver glow

Here she will reign, until February’s gone
till her grasp weakens and and let’s go
but for now she’s here, heed her power my dear
I would hate for you to get lost in the snow.

I bow my head to the sea (poem)

I come to the sea at night
The sun  purple remnants in the west
I  smell the sand, golden, warm from the day
I taste the salt, brine on my tongue

wisps on the air

A thinly restrained chaos
to which civilization bends its knee
as the waves rushing passed each other
In foamy crests which lay down and then pull back

as it has done

for an eternity

I stand there at that brink
at the cool knife’s edge where water and sand meet
Arms splayed outward, an arrogant kite
Ready to be taken

I can hear the roar,  the power of wind and surf

wondering at its leagues and depths as forward it rolls

waking to the sheer power of its majesty

a place where giant beasts call home

in it’s cold, dark fathoms,

where ships lay strewn on silty sandy floors, forgotten,

it lays down and then pulls backward

the cool sand at my feet collapses

as if she means

to take me away as if I never was

I falter, my arms lower
Clasping hands come together


of my insolence, arrogance, and infinitesimal might

my face colours
I bow my head to mother, I bow my head to the sea