When It Feels Like the Planet Is Trying To Get Rid Of Us

Dammed

How tranquil the circuitous creek,
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.

Poetry Reading March 24, 2017

Riding the Bus

A poetic moment on the bus.  Putting my hospital chaplaincy training to use.

Reject the Numbness

Jesus was offered myrrh-ed wine (ἐσμυρνισμένον) before the crucifixion, but he didn't take it.  (Mark 15:23)  Apparently, such wine was commonly offered to the crucified because of myrrh's pain-deadening properties.

The image a Jesus rejecting myrrh keeps coming back to me as I read tweets and Facebook posts.  So many people are anxious and feeling unsafe that I'm tempted to numb myself to their pain.  The number of hurting and worried people is that overwhelming.

There are plenty of ways I could choose numbness over engagement -- block Twitter and Facebook accounts, ignore certain news outlets, spend my free-time pursuing pleasant distractions.  Then I remember Jesus facing the cross without cutting the pain, and the temptation to dropout fades.

Why did Jesus choose to feel the pain of the crucifixion when he had an alternative available to him?  His choice was a brave one, and it makes me feel brave.  I can face what's happening in society because I am in communion with this type of Savior, one who can endure the pain and triumph over it.  I anticipate that he will give me victory over the anxieties of today, too.

Poetry Reading 01/20/17

The Negative Teacher

Wave, a revulsion

gaining momentum.

Contempt for another,

threatening to crest.

Then I confess, and

the loathing recedes

Where did the sickness go?

Whence came its antidote?

The answers will come

when I behold God.

The Failed Doorkeeper

Resolution

Passing Peace?

“Passing Of The Peace”

It was their High Holy Moment:

a cheery “Morning” followed by

a brief handshake.

The congregation’s circulation

more family reunion potluck

than the exchange of divine grace,

the external power that helped me

endure their act of worship.

Open Mic Night

Read some of my poetry at Uptown Bill's.  I step on stage around 34:45 into the clip.

Germanic Skin Under Prairie Sun

Fibro Fog

Fibro Fog

He put a half-filled jar of

roasted garlic pasta sauce

in the cupboard

instead of

in the frig.

He could remember the word "Isolate,"

but the word he really wanted was

"Atomize."

He stepped off the curb

against the light,

in front of a semi.

That's when it hit me.