i first saw my face in a dream
    on a night when my fever had been high
    for some time.
i had gone to sleep praying to christ
    and a face was revealed. 
not, of course, my face nowadays
    nor my face when i was young
    nor the face of the noblest of angels
    as i always picture it in my mind.

it was a face surpassing even this --
and i knew at once it was my own.

about the face was a gold-tinged blackness.
the next day when my eyes opened
the fever raged no less,
but in my heart was a strange calm.

                                  -- yagi jukichi

 

Lord, i need you

let me be smart enough to sleep tonight
the physical far more connected
to the emotional and spiritual
than i typically attribute

heal my head
don't let me miss something because my eyes
are half-closed, still hungover

wow, i don't really want it
God, save me
remind me next time i think i do
clean and kill me
(one to one, the other to the other)

Father, make me pure

 

 

what makes poetry so
why is it pretentious to read (it)
and so difficult to write
?

monica barron, where've you gone
i need criticizing voices
i can't easily dismiss

Father, your discipline
let me not despise
but embrace, then embark
on the way of change

expectations, supplications and emily dickinson
none can i escape nor understand
throw myself in that mix
most foremostly
fool.

 

 

all the stupid things i'd said

coldly playing upon the
hearts and wallets of all men

never meaning to cause you trouble
or do you wrong

but does xm radio appease
that which appeals so much
more deeply?

Lord, what can i do?
so weak, so unwilling. 
but more powerless
at the seeming hopelessness.

show me hope
then give me power.
save scott sasser.

 

 

death to demigods
by you YHWH

what natural self remains?
which excuses retained?
why so long O Lord?
tarrying for our salvation
for our very own good
but we're given to gander
elsewhere.  anywhere but here.
fleeting moments.  God, give grace.

where are we without you
when even with you
we whine weakly.
and worse.