My Professors
"My people. . . the ones fully relating my virtues" (Isaiah 43:21)
living that relates
my virtues from the
knowing that describes
my virtues to the
hearing that instills
my virtues to the
discerning that perceives
my virtue of loving
love that encompasses
my virtue of freeing
freedom that champions
my virtue of serving
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Friday, August 2, 2019
Dawning Discernment of Weeks 5 & 6
 |
| Image by The Reverend Anna Blaedel at UM Forward |
- August 8th is going to be an awful day
- I wish someone would open a safe space on that day
- A place where I could pray and weep
- A sacred sanctuary where I would pour out my ire at the other side,
- and then perceive God's grace minister in that brokenness
- I bet others feel the same way I do
- That Thursday will be unbearably painful as old wounds are opened,
- and they wish they had a haven where they would find divine aid
- I wish someone would plan something like that for me and all the people out there like me
- Wait. Maybe I'm supposed to be that person
After an early AM one-sided conversation with God (and a check-in to make sure my idea would be appropriate) I created a virtual vigil.
August 8th is the date of the church hearing regarding the complaint against The Reverend Anna Blaedel for being honest about who they are and who they love. A collective action of witness will take place outside the hearing location. The virtual vigil symbolizes the cloud of witnesses who will surround Anna that day in absentia.
Sunday, July 21, 2019
Call to Fast, Pray, Read: Week Four
The praise band led us in singing Indescribable today. The lyrics brought to mind Isaiah's description of God, the one who extends the sky, stabilizes the earth, and brings forth the cosmos. Some part of me is certain that this perspective is true. We do worship an awesome, indescribable God, and we should resist the tendency to domesticate or diminish the divine into something more comforting.
After this praise song, the guest preacher shared a story of his brother's ministry in a maximum-security prison in the Congo. The brother was a political prisoner; a dissident whose only crime was his opinion that no one is above the law not even the President of the DRC.
Hearing a positive example of the UMC in Congo was an important counterpoint to the accusation that African UMs are the primary reason why the denomination continues to discriminate against the LGBTQ+ community. Love of enemy includes replacing a one-dimensional caricature with a more nuanced representation. God is beginning that work in me.
After the story, the preacher issued a call for unity that focused on two points:
1) We are filled with the power of God
2) We should use that power to speak faith, hope, and joy into the lives of others
While he preached, I thought of John Wesley's understand of grace. In his writings, Wesley equated grace with the power of God's love. By faith, we can perceive that power and our perception evokes a response. Typically, that response takes one of three forms: our faith is strengthened, we are convicted of sin, or we grow in love of God and neighbor.
The guest preacher taught a unity based on faith and love, which are the comforting sides of God's power. However, to be true to UM doctrine the sermon should have included an example of bringing people together by rebuking, disturbing false peace, and calling for confession.
Isaiah rebuked the worship of the small gods represented by idols. I am rebuking a form of church unity that is comfortable with discrimination.
Sunday, July 14, 2019
Call to Fast, Pray, Read: Week Three
 |
| From http://lifemessenger.org/lifemessage/publications/the-blind-servant/ |
God of the Blind and the Deaf
The lessons of Isaiah 41 & 42 were feeling Other.
Prophecies directed at exiles of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob.
Jewish tribes indebted to Cyrus and his Gentile liberality.
No me. Not mine. Not our historical conundrum.
Scriptural misappropriation would complicate discernment
I feared.
Until I found the ground of my faith in the words of Isaiah 42: 16-19.
The seeing and the hearing who confidently proclaim forward possibilities
Are not dependant on Isaiah's God, who is followed by the desperate and humbled.
I will glory in my lack of insight.
I will celebrate my failure to discern.
I will work with those similarly afflicted
Stumbling and hesitant
Yet expecting to be oriented
In God's time and manner
All of us-- leaders, members, disaffiliated, those who rule over them
We can not see or hear the way we should go.
Our only hope is in the God who guides those willing to admit their blindness and deafness
to the future.
Sunday, July 7, 2019
Call to Fast, Pray, and Read Week Two
αλλάξουσιν ισχύν (Isaiah 40: 31)
in case the reader missed it, the next verse repeats it
αλλάξουσιν ισχύν (Isaiah 41:1)For the God-awaiting, and for the rulers over them, and for the one who brings justice
ισχύν
It appears miniscule floating in the middle of all this white space. To Isaiah, it’s central.
Strength, Power, Might, Force, Ability, Am/Is/Are-ness
That’s hard to miss in the Greek.
Isaiah is a prophet of justice proclaiming a power that can bring to life his prophetic vision. God, as the source of this justice-achieving power, is able to imbue humans with it.
αλλάξουσιν
Gamers have a phrase-- Power Up. It refers to finding an object in a video game that gives the player an extra ability. It might be heftier firepower, stronger shields, longer life, greater speed, claiming objects that make the game easier to play and winning it more likely is a power up.
God’s power, according to Isaiah, is something along these lines. Isaiah is not describing a human power, such as force of personality or strength of intelligence, but instead Isaiah’s message conceives of God’s power as an in-addition-to and other-than our natural abilities.
“Renews their strength” is not an adequate translation of αλλάξουσιν ισχύν. “Adds another ισχύν” to those they already have, is closer to the Greek.
I’ve spent this week contemplating how I’ve been powered up by God in the past. What kept coming to mind is the number of times that God gave me the ability to love my enemies and pray for my persecutors. Definitely not a strength that comes to me naturally.
I admit to a certain amount of grumpiness that in the midst of justice-seeking discernment of UMC next steps, “love your enemies” is the lesson God imparted. Apparently, I needed reminding.
I suspect that the ισχύν given is different depending on the needs of the individual. God has given me love of enemies. What power is God imbuing you with that will aid the movement forward?
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Call to Fast, Pray, and Read: Week One
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| Paul Ratje/AFP/Getty Images |
From June 24 to August 4 seeking The Will Of God
During this season of disaffiliation, these collective interventions feel like the appropriate call
After joining the witness list, I began the assigned lesson: Isaiah 40-66
The Book of the Prophet Isaiah, Chapter 40, Verse One
First word: παρακαλείτε
Looks like parakeet
Sounds like Paraclete, which looks like
παράκλητος, which is sometimes translated
Helper-Comforter-Advocate
Derived from
παρα-- As in Close Beside
καλέω-- As in Make a Call
As if being close to the situation, the legal advisor makes the correct call and the client is
comforted
Sometimes symbolized as a White Dove or as a Red Flame
Never to my knowledge as a parakeet, a species of parrot with a potential lifespan of twenty
years unless living in pet confinement, in which case the average lifespan is cut by three-
fourths
One Part) Inadequate Nutrition
Two Parts) Poor Hygiene
Three Parts) Cages
Echoed in the final word of the first pericope: παρακαλέσει
As if Isaiah’s God is like a shepherd who comforts the pregnant ewes
by advocating for a healthy diet and a safe shelter and the freedom to rest in green meadows and
wander beside tranquil waters and then goes on to help them realize these rights
The first word of the prophecy is comfort. The last word of the prophecy is comfort.
As in, the Church called into being by the Paraclete will worship Isaiah’s God, and every one of its members will be close beside the comfortless, and its leaders will all teach the lesson that helping those in need of advocates is an act of worship, and this witness, spoken and lived, will distress the comfortable, who will confess and repent and will become a legal power that makes the correct call and protects the vulnerable, or they will leave the Church of Isaiah’s God and find a congregation that is not so distressing to their status quo.
Thus ends the first week of discernment.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Thirty
Anticipatory Grief
His departure hallowed her
two years before it happened
making his favorite fried food
the potatoes giving off earth
the oil sealing in salt
she panic to realize it would end
if he wasn't her daily care
where would that leave her?
In order to stave off the horror
she got that Masters degree
volunteered her interests
and hoped next time he would visit
more than twice a semester.
His departure hallowed her
two years before it happened
making his favorite fried food
the potatoes giving off earth
the oil sealing in salt
she panic to realize it would end
if he wasn't her daily care
where would that leave her?
In order to stave off the horror
she got that Masters degree
volunteered her interests
and hoped next time he would visit
more than twice a semester.
Monday, April 29, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Nine
Prompt
You Didn't Build That
More faded fire engine than Bozo nose
the red, long-sleeved polo my sister outgrew
plain unadorned logoless the way I like
wearing it over gray, long-sleeved bamboo
t-shirt souvenir from parents' Hawaiian trip
light touch with a lived-in feel that warms
worn under the brownish-gray zip-front sweater
my husband gets credit for that thrift store find
the weave of the sleeves tighter than the body's
with the coffee brown name-branded pants
bought with a gift card from mom-in-law
saved by the dry-cleaner/seamstress
her English was so-so; her work is invisible
You Didn't Build That
More faded fire engine than Bozo nose
the red, long-sleeved polo my sister outgrew
plain unadorned logoless the way I like
wearing it over gray, long-sleeved bamboo
t-shirt souvenir from parents' Hawaiian trip
light touch with a lived-in feel that warms
worn under the brownish-gray zip-front sweater
my husband gets credit for that thrift store find
the weave of the sleeves tighter than the body's
with the coffee brown name-branded pants
bought with a gift card from mom-in-law
saved by the dry-cleaner/seamstress
her English was so-so; her work is invisible
Sunday, April 28, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Eight
Demographic Appeal
He is charmed by my attractiveness
to a narrow population
this woman for example
telling me about the bringer of cookies
each week bearing a brightly iced platter
today in the shape of eighth notes
in honor of Jazz Sunday
a print visible in a yellow one
left by a little thumb
that had trouble deciding
between the enticing shades
I lean closer to better hear the quaver
"I must learn her name," she confesses
"She always arrives late."
He is charmed by my attractiveness
to a narrow population
this woman for example
telling me about the bringer of cookies
each week bearing a brightly iced platter
today in the shape of eighth notes
in honor of Jazz Sunday
a print visible in a yellow one
left by a little thumb
that had trouble deciding
between the enticing shades
I lean closer to better hear the quaver
"I must learn her name," she confesses
"She always arrives late."
Saturday, April 27, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Seven
Inspired by Mary Oliver, with apology
Pest Geese
You need to stop hissing at me.
You need to walk your wide load out of my way.
You have dropped your soft, green mush all over the path
and that is not okay.
Tell me what you're thinking in that dinosaur relic of a brain
and I will tell you what my monkey mind sees.
Meanwhile a threatening beak at the end of a snaking neck
stretches aggressively at me.
Meanwhile Spring sap seeps through feathers
crazing your instinct to strike.
Meanwhile I was singing "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone"
in an attempt to distract you.
Whoever walks near you next
I offer this advice
I raised my arms, made myself big
over and over established my right
to be upright and bipedal on this sidewalk.
Pest Geese
You need to stop hissing at me.
You need to walk your wide load out of my way.
You have dropped your soft, green mush all over the path
and that is not okay.
Tell me what you're thinking in that dinosaur relic of a brain
and I will tell you what my monkey mind sees.
Meanwhile a threatening beak at the end of a snaking neck
stretches aggressively at me.
Meanwhile Spring sap seeps through feathers
crazing your instinct to strike.
Meanwhile I was singing "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone"
in an attempt to distract you.
Whoever walks near you next
I offer this advice
I raised my arms, made myself big
over and over established my right
to be upright and bipedal on this sidewalk.
Friday, April 26, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Six
Prompt
Resilient
Rejection is dragging its saw teeth against my grain
of optimistic highlights
silver-coated outlook
self-assured lining
sunny dispensation
Rejection is sinking its feline fangs under my soft
rosy-colored filter
positive development
actuate self-confidence
convinced aplomb
Resilient
Rejection is dragging its saw teeth against my grain
of optimistic highlights
silver-coated outlook
self-assured lining
sunny dispensation
Rejection is sinking its feline fangs under my soft
rosy-colored filter
positive development
actuate self-confidence
convinced aplomb
Thursday, April 25, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Five
Static Shock
Thrown stones would have hit her in the Bible
She raised him to say it doesn't matter
Straight and gay are held to the same standard
Kissing should be a wild and private thing
She doesn't want it on public viewing
Beloved, will you join my rebellion
Touch your lips to mine with a shared inhale
Or tease mine ever so in a slow grin
Slide yours along all my tender tickles
With enough power to upset normal?
Let us put our mouths to the challenge
Preferably on the church's front sidewalk
Thrown stones would have hit her in the Bible
She raised him to say it doesn't matter
Straight and gay are held to the same standard
Kissing should be a wild and private thing
She doesn't want it on public viewing
Beloved, will you join my rebellion
Touch your lips to mine with a shared inhale
Or tease mine ever so in a slow grin
Slide yours along all my tender tickles
With enough power to upset normal?
Let us put our mouths to the challenge
Preferably on the church's front sidewalk
Wednesday, April 24, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Four
Prompts One and Two
It's gettin' hot in here
Weather Underground says the temperature is 69°
Wikipedia says Weather Underground takes its name from
a 1960s militant student group
CBS This Morning says one man is behind one-third of
what's on Wikipedia
Steven Pruitt says he takes his username from his favorite
opera character
Gianni Schicchi says the punishment for falsifying a will is
exile and loss of a hand
My hand says my punishment is to shiver on a 69° day because
I didn't wear gloves
My mother says the wind here is a humid cold that weighs
into the bones
The wind says the sun will soon turn militant so take off all
you know
It's gettin' hot in here
Weather Underground says the temperature is 69°
Wikipedia says Weather Underground takes its name from
a 1960s militant student group
CBS This Morning says one man is behind one-third of
what's on Wikipedia
Steven Pruitt says he takes his username from his favorite
opera character
Gianni Schicchi says the punishment for falsifying a will is
exile and loss of a hand
My hand says my punishment is to shiver on a 69° day because
I didn't wear gloves
My mother says the wind here is a humid cold that weighs
into the bones
The wind says the sun will soon turn militant so take off all
you know
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Three
Prompt from April Free Generative Writing Workshop taught by Elizabeth Weiss
With Rococo Flourishes
She had worn it on a gold chain
both gifts from Roy after a week
of dates although he was engaged
to a girl from his hometown so
a present worn around her neck
locket swinging close to her breasts
was scandalous
By sliding a thumbnail into
a depression on its right side
the locket opened like a book
revealing two oval portraits
Roy in his fedora and Roy
in backlit profile a wavy
haired Rhett Butler
She hadn't worn the chain and its
locket in decades had kept it
stored in its original box
from Montgomery Ward department
store because she wasn't that girl
anymore and she didn't hand
it down because
Neither of their girls grew up to be a Scarlett
With Rococo Flourishes
She had worn it on a gold chain
both gifts from Roy after a week
of dates although he was engaged
to a girl from his hometown so
a present worn around her neck
locket swinging close to her breasts
was scandalous
By sliding a thumbnail into
a depression on its right side
the locket opened like a book
revealing two oval portraits
Roy in his fedora and Roy
in backlit profile a wavy
haired Rhett Butler
She hadn't worn the chain and its
locket in decades had kept it
stored in its original box
from Montgomery Ward department
store because she wasn't that girl
anymore and she didn't hand
it down because
Neither of their girls grew up to be a Scarlett
Monday, April 22, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-Two
Prompt
Bringing a Visual Aid to an Oral Defense
Dancing was Herr Dr. Moltmann's metaphor
Perichoresis, or Rotation
Think the pirouette of the planets
Picture the dosey doe of the multiverse
My Chair couldn't
The sisters in summer's dusk
Backdrop of carnations, lilies, roses
The luminous glow on their ruffled white frocks
Motions mirrored as their wicks carefully place
Light inside their Chinese lanterns
The intimate mood exactly catching Moltmann's
Three persons with one permeating essence
Dwelling and existing in perfect unity
The divine inner life illustrating
How we are to be each to the other
My Chair got hung up on the lack of difference
Polly seven, Dolly eleven,
Where was the Father?
"But if the Three are co-eternal. . ." I trailed off
And thus my defense was won
Bringing a Visual Aid to an Oral Defense
 |
| John Singer Sargent - Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose |
Dancing was Herr Dr. Moltmann's metaphor
Perichoresis, or Rotation
Think the pirouette of the planets
Picture the dosey doe of the multiverse
My Chair couldn't
The sisters in summer's dusk
Backdrop of carnations, lilies, roses
The luminous glow on their ruffled white frocks
Motions mirrored as their wicks carefully place
Light inside their Chinese lanterns
The intimate mood exactly catching Moltmann's
Three persons with one permeating essence
Dwelling and existing in perfect unity
The divine inner life illustrating
How we are to be each to the other
My Chair got hung up on the lack of difference
Polly seven, Dolly eleven,
Where was the Father?
"But if the Three are co-eternal. . ." I trailed off
And thus my defense was won
Sunday, April 21, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twenty-One
Easter 2019
The chilling left behind by violence
stillness so sealed it resists release
dying waves collapse to sediment
until the silt resembles a shroud
The birthing right before the sunrise
buds erupting along calloused bark
rising tidings swelling to summon
tumult so trumpeting it resolves
The chilling left behind by violence
stillness so sealed it resists release
dying waves collapse to sediment
until the silt resembles a shroud
The birthing right before the sunrise
buds erupting along calloused bark
rising tidings swelling to summon
tumult so trumpeting it resolves
Saturday, April 20, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month - Twenty
Holy Saturday Vigil
Craving dark bread, cured meats, garlic pickles, and mustard
Food here has no flavor in the land of Germans, Danes, and Czechs
Formerly
Tonight's loaves were crusty, well-seeded, and tasted of nowhere
A montonity only possible to produce with factory farming
In spite of its failing I confess my piece of the body of Christ
Did convey communion
In the midst of bland
The season of hope
Craving dark bread, cured meats, garlic pickles, and mustard
Food here has no flavor in the land of Germans, Danes, and Czechs
Formerly
Tonight's loaves were crusty, well-seeded, and tasted of nowhere
A montonity only possible to produce with factory farming
In spite of its failing I confess my piece of the body of Christ
Did convey communion
In the midst of bland
The season of hope
Friday, April 19, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Nineteen
Prompt
Swagger
Ambling down hill faded
Blue windbreaker over
Collared hensley worn
Due to attending panel
Exchange on immigration
Federal law in the reality TV
Government by the Family for the Family
He/Him/His
I would recognize your gait
Jutting to the left
Knee after the accident
Left a limp
Mueller report launching
News coverage tweeting
Opinions that you relayed which
Prompted my sighed replies
Quip pro quo evidently
Reasonable if the benefits
Surpass the oath
Treasured by patriots
Uttered nonsense with
Vigor conveying deportment
Whereby other men recognize as
Xenophile cosmopolitan
You will throw and have punched always
Zealous against brutish bullies
Swagger
Ambling down hill faded
Blue windbreaker over
Collared hensley worn
Due to attending panel
Exchange on immigration
Federal law in the reality TV
Government by the Family for the Family
He/Him/His
I would recognize your gait
Jutting to the left
Knee after the accident
Left a limp
Mueller report launching
News coverage tweeting
Opinions that you relayed which
Prompted my sighed replies
Quip pro quo evidently
Reasonable if the benefits
Surpass the oath
Treasured by patriots
Uttered nonsense with
Vigor conveying deportment
Whereby other men recognize as
Xenophile cosmopolitan
You will throw and have punched always
Zealous against brutish bullies
Thursday, April 18, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Eighteen
Prompt-- inspired by Acts 15:39
Paroxysm
Paroxysm
He doesn't want a divorce
the house splintered by difference
irreconcilable
Tired of trying to mend the tatters
The A-frame on the corner
Christmas Eve candles offered
white with white paper disks
Nostalgia isn't holding together
Paul and Barnabas provoked
halving the house between them
alongside a sharp edge
Did schism shred their fellow feeling, too?
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Seventeen
Prompt
Irresistible
You spread me around with good intention
how the shrubs stood out
in heightened relief
how moist the soil stayed
under my cover
I rested against your sure foundation
how my name appealed
Big Red like your team
how the weeds withered
because of my mass
Made by my maker to be attractive
how tasty my wood
to termite larvae
how easily gnawed
your 2x4 studs
I made neat and tidy while I lasted
how could you predict
I was all surface
how could you foresee
it would all break down?
Irresistible
You spread me around with good intention
how the shrubs stood out
in heightened relief
how moist the soil stayed
under my cover
I rested against your sure foundation
how my name appealed
Big Red like your team
how the weeds withered
because of my mass
Made by my maker to be attractive
how tasty my wood
to termite larvae
how easily gnawed
your 2x4 studs
I made neat and tidy while I lasted
how could you predict
I was all surface
how could you foresee
it would all break down?
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Sixteen
Prompt
Hair Clips: varieties and uses
skinny silver alligator like
separating strands from toothpaste foam
desensitizing first water sipped
chilly morning glass opening throat
double-prong arms out
holding fast a curl
until it dries waves
snaking along face
puny black shark teeth look
lifting locks off pillow
too fragile for feathers
crushed by heavy dreaming
wide clip edged on scalp
freeing roots of weight
that inherited
that dyed and straightened
Hair Clips: varieties and uses
skinny silver alligator like
separating strands from toothpaste foam
desensitizing first water sipped
chilly morning glass opening throat
double-prong arms out
holding fast a curl
until it dries waves
snaking along face
puny black shark teeth look
lifting locks off pillow
too fragile for feathers
crushed by heavy dreaming
wide clip edged on scalp
freeing roots of weight
that inherited
that dyed and straightened
Monday, April 15, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Fifteen
Prompt
No Voice
Nailed every note
Crunked for the crowd
Flirted with falsetto
You didn't turn around
Ran through my runs
Kept G in key
Emoted emotions
But you didn't pick me
Blake, I can croon
Gwen, I speak ska
Kelly, will belt bigger
Adam, will practice pop
YouTube loves me
Millions have watched
Audience was cheering
Still no buttons were pushed
No Voice
Nailed every note
Crunked for the crowd
Flirted with falsetto
You didn't turn around
Ran through my runs
Kept G in key
Emoted emotions
But you didn't pick me
Blake, I can croon
Gwen, I speak ska
Kelly, will belt bigger
Adam, will practice pop
YouTube loves me
Millions have watched
Audience was cheering
Still no buttons were pushed
Sunday, April 14, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Fourteen
Prompt
Dove Tail Tales
Their call was familiar
before their appearance
Morning feeders
at breakfast time
Feathers smoothed to seamlessness
multiple shades of tan, beige, brown
Not white but
still peaceful
Too large for the perch so they sat in the seeds
until Dad bought a mix that repelled them
Now they peck through his grasses
mourning
A sound I know from summers
sister and I sharing a bed
Waking to unfamiliar plaintive notes
visiting his farm back when Grandpa lived
Dove Tail Tales
Their call was familiar
before their appearance
Morning feeders
at breakfast time
Feathers smoothed to seamlessness
multiple shades of tan, beige, brown
Not white but
still peaceful
Too large for the perch so they sat in the seeds
until Dad bought a mix that repelled them
Now they peck through his grasses
mourning
A sound I know from summers
sister and I sharing a bed
Waking to unfamiliar plaintive notes
visiting his farm back when Grandpa lived
Saturday, April 13, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Thirteen
Prompt
Bàoqiàn, that will be 20 yuan
Welcome to Shenzhen, Dr. Dave
Didi is here waiting to drive you
the hotel is ten minutes near
proceed North through the station's glass doors
No, your other North.
Your hosts are already drinking
I texted word of your arrival
they reserved a table at 8
time enough to unpack and shower
Glad you travel light.
Your car is the black one ahead
turn left now and walk to the corner
jaywalking is not an option
just what do you think you're doing, Dave?
AI knows your face.
Bàoqiàn, that will be 20 yuan
Welcome to Shenzhen, Dr. Dave
Didi is here waiting to drive you
the hotel is ten minutes near
proceed North through the station's glass doors
No, your other North.
Your hosts are already drinking
I texted word of your arrival
they reserved a table at 8
time enough to unpack and shower
Glad you travel light.
Your car is the black one ahead
turn left now and walk to the corner
jaywalking is not an option
just what do you think you're doing, Dave?
AI knows your face.
Friday, April 12, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Twelve
Prompt
Wedding Gift
After fifteen years of marriage
I never told you, did I
the edges are dulled
how odd I found the pairing
on the scissors from the knife set
to cut recipes from papers?
Grandma's Kitchen Klatter columns
found taped in a notebook
including Corn Fairfax,
which I thought long handed-down
a family Thanksgiving tradition
since 1952
Now I understand
that is how you are
scissors have a food use
expanding my vision
because you showed me how
beyond the paper before me
Wedding Gift
After fifteen years of marriage
I never told you, did I
the edges are dulled
how odd I found the pairing
on the scissors from the knife set
to cut recipes from papers?
Grandma's Kitchen Klatter columns
found taped in a notebook
including Corn Fairfax,
which I thought long handed-down
a family Thanksgiving tradition
since 1952
Now I understand
that is how you are
scissors have a food use
expanding my vision
because you showed me how
beyond the paper before me
Thursday, April 11, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Eleven
Prompt
Wood Panel Station Wagon
Deducting inward like Miss Marple
intuiting the mood from the back seat
puppy resting her curly black head against the driver
Bert and Ernie"That's What Friends Are For" on the eight track tape
Detecting outward like Nancy Drew
translating to him what was meant by her
puppy dragging her clear brown eyes through the rest stop grasses
Ray Conniff singers "The Way We Were" mark the miles gone by
Wood Panel Station Wagon
Deducting inward like Miss Marple
intuiting the mood from the back seat
puppy resting her curly black head against the driver
Bert and Ernie"That's What Friends Are For" on the eight track tape
Detecting outward like Nancy Drew
translating to him what was meant by her
puppy dragging her clear brown eyes through the rest stop grasses
Ray Conniff singers "The Way We Were" mark the miles gone by
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Ten
Prompt
Seasons of the Anthropocene
The span of tornadoes
The era of flooding
The spell of vortexes
The eon of burning
Seasons of the Anthropocene
The span of tornadoes
The era of flooding
The spell of vortexes
The eon of burning
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Nine
Prompt from Diane Lockwood's newsletter. Sign up here
Only the poor walk in Memphis
I count the degrees
fifty above sixty
days during winter
relabel them My Spring
I crack the sidewalk
beneath crepe myrtle buds
dry-rubbed ribs smoking
no other soul in sight
I circle the drain
down Tennessee's southwest tip
bless your heart echoes
flushed into Mississip
Only the poor walk in Memphis
I count the degrees
fifty above sixty
days during winter
relabel them My Spring
I crack the sidewalk
beneath crepe myrtle buds
dry-rubbed ribs smoking
no other soul in sight
I circle the drain
down Tennessee's southwest tip
bless your heart echoes
flushed into Mississip
Monday, April 8, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Eight
Prompt-- Inspired by 1 Corinthians 10:13
The Quiet of Grave Dispositions
The bowed heads of my childhood
were supplicants to
a mainly benevolent God
who never trapped
past the point of endurance
always offering
clauses of escape
The bowed heads of current children
are petitioners of
a viral gaming god
sending more candy
than two thumbs can crush
more mad birds
than a swipe sharply left can launch
The Quiet of Grave Dispositions
The bowed heads of my childhood
were supplicants to
a mainly benevolent God
who never trapped
past the point of endurance
always offering
clauses of escape
The bowed heads of current children
are petitioners of
a viral gaming god
sending more candy
than two thumbs can crush
more mad birds
than a swipe sharply left can launch
Sunday, April 7, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Seven
Prompt-- inspired by Mark 12:28-31
As Yourself
All the jangled edges will dissolve
softening like the bitter vine unbinding
everything worn and frayed rewoven
as we become more beige with each passing prayer.
All the tempered daydreams will focus
heightening like the lily bloom unfolding
everything singular bespoken
as we become more bland with each granted grace.
All the selfless gestures will increase
strengthening like the buried roots unearthing
everything us and them forgiven
becoming more boring with each Let It Be.
Saturday, April 6, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Six
Prompt
Diagnosed
Possibly this physician listens
"My head feels crushed"
As if air added extra weight
Only around him.
Maybe this professional studies
"My tendons torque"
As if points of pain amplified
Because of nightfall.
Perhaps this practioner doctors
"My rest is brief"
As if sleep's whys and hows were known
And dispensed to all.
Diagnosed
Possibly this physician listens
"My head feels crushed"
As if air added extra weight
Only around him.
Maybe this professional studies
"My tendons torque"
As if points of pain amplified
Because of nightfall.
Perhaps this practioner doctors
"My rest is brief"
As if sleep's whys and hows were known
And dispensed to all.
Friday, April 5, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Five
Prompt: This is a mash-up of tweets about the climate crisis and the opening lines of the TV show "The Bionic Man"
Rage Against The Dying
High North wails a dirge
Technology we have
A dead planet does not toil.
Speed and scale
We can rebuild
High North wails a dirge.
Emitting harm
We can make
A dead planet does not toil.
Voices of the sacrifice zone
Better, stronger, faster
High North wails a dirge.
Twice the rate
Than was Austin
A dead planet does not toil.
Larger efficiencies
Barely alive
High North wails a dirge
A dead planet does not toil.
Rage Against The Dying
High North wails a dirge
Technology we have
A dead planet does not toil.
Speed and scale
We can rebuild
High North wails a dirge.
Emitting harm
We can make
A dead planet does not toil.
Voices of the sacrifice zone
Better, stronger, faster
High North wails a dirge.
Twice the rate
Than was Austin
A dead planet does not toil.
Larger efficiencies
Barely alive
High North wails a dirge
A dead planet does not toil.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Four
Prompt
Deposed
as the freighter hauls him away
gingered humid breezes vanish
I cry for King Kong
severed from beauty
Deposed
as the freighter hauls him away
gingered humid breezes vanish
I cry for King Kong
severed from beauty
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Three
Prompt
I was promised baby owls
In the backyard
our new neighbor gushed
a mating pair nested every Spring
which tree I wondered and hoped
not the one tipped in the storm
so crashing we felt lightning-struck
Mostly dead trees with awfully dead limbs
we texted the damage done to the landlord
when the laurel trunk dented the gutter and roof
of the house she bought next door to her sister
living in a ranch with equal decay
where she imagines eventually retiring
"We're roommates," she gushed
when she stayed the week
in the basement bedroom
between Christmas and New Year's
which we accepted tolerant at first
their failing father so near to dying
However, year two was too much again
such a light sleeper my spouse
he tracks troubled dreams swarming underneath
lies awake suffering the hooting
of the pair who visit but never stay
only flying through mostly at dusk
I was promised baby owls
In the backyard
our new neighbor gushed
a mating pair nested every Spring
which tree I wondered and hoped
not the one tipped in the storm
so crashing we felt lightning-struck
Mostly dead trees with awfully dead limbs
we texted the damage done to the landlord
when the laurel trunk dented the gutter and roof
of the house she bought next door to her sister
living in a ranch with equal decay
where she imagines eventually retiring
"We're roommates," she gushed
when she stayed the week
in the basement bedroom
between Christmas and New Year's
which we accepted tolerant at first
their failing father so near to dying
However, year two was too much again
such a light sleeper my spouse
he tracks troubled dreams swarming underneath
lies awake suffering the hooting
of the pair who visit but never stay
only flying through mostly at dusk
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month Two
Prompt
Like No Home Place
Tribe, oh
Tribe, oh
Tribe of mine
Where should I search?
Down the shoot by the bin of children's cartoons?
Near the breeze outside the droop of snowdrop's crease?
In the glint on the bond of Hs and O?
Tribe, oh
Tribe, oh
Tribe of mine
Where do you dwell?
Like No Home Place
Tribe, oh
Tribe, oh
Tribe of mine
Where should I search?
Down the shoot by the bin of children's cartoons?
Near the breeze outside the droop of snowdrop's crease?
In the glint on the bond of Hs and O?
Tribe, oh
Tribe, oh
Tribe of mine
Where do you dwell?
Monday, April 1, 2019
National Poetry Writing Month One
Prompt
How To Walk Your Husband
Tell him you must mail your taxes today
Invite him along to the grocery store
With the customer service counter that
Doubles as a neighborhood post office
He ought to push past the sneezing sniffles
Switch off March madness, add warmer layers
Expect for the favored thin blue mittens
Which put less fabric between your held hands.
How To Walk Your Husband
Tell him you must mail your taxes today
Invite him along to the grocery store
With the customer service counter that
Doubles as a neighborhood post office
He ought to push past the sneezing sniffles
Switch off March madness, add warmer layers
Expect for the favored thin blue mittens
Which put less fabric between your held hands.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
When It Feels Like the Planet Is Trying To Get Rid Of Us
Dammed
Coursing through the cul de sac backyards,
Fondly considered by former kids,
Who collected its dank polliwogs,
But in the depths of its long-held springs,
An aggrieved hatred crawls through the mud,
Despised the arrogant settlers,
Believing they could conquer a swamp.
Saturday, March 16, 2019
2020 UMC General Conference: More of the Same
First United Methodist Church of Iowa City is holding a meeting next Sunday between members of the youth group and members of the Reconciling Ministries committee. The youth want to share a statement they've written following the anti-LGBTQ vote at the 2019 UMC General Conference Special Session. The Reconciling committee wants to meet and discuss next steps. (I don't know if they will be steps to stay and fight or steps to walk away.)
I've committed to following efforts to create a progressive Methodist denomination and reporting them back to the group. So far all I can report is the "wait and see what Judicial Council rules" response I'm finding everywhere.
I will also be sharing what the 2020 General Conference delegate distribution will be:
By my calculation, 28% of the delegates will come from progressive jurisdictions. Please let me know before the March 24 meeting if my calculation is off.
Source: Here
I've committed to following efforts to create a progressive Methodist denomination and reporting them back to the group. So far all I can report is the "wait and see what Judicial Council rules" response I'm finding everywhere.
I will also be sharing what the 2020 General Conference delegate distribution will be:
By my calculation, 28% of the delegates will come from progressive jurisdictions. Please let me know before the March 24 meeting if my calculation is off.
Source: Here
Saturday, February 16, 2019
iHearIC Interview
The organizer of the iHearIC concert series also hosts a radio show on the University of Iowa student station. He invited me on the show to read my poetry and to discuss the creative process.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Salt and Light by Jami Smith
We sang this song this morning for Epiphany Sunday. It's my theme for the day!
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