Words Optional

Currents of sweat carve channels down his face,
Deep wrinkles forming mountains when he smiles
That speak in peaks, a volume without words
That carry meaning multiples of miles.

I glass the gesture and two smiles appear
Reflecting back and forth in double glory–
One thousand words exchanged in silent wonder,
A splash of pearl white lightning, then deep thunder
Rumbling peals of laughter greet the story.


We make friends on plane rides and in waiting rooms,
A mayfly that lives, breeds, and dies in a day,
Taking a scrape of our painted exterior,
Giving our varnish in moments away,
Leaving us natural, naked, and raw,
Paint peeled and fading, weathered and worn,
Lives like a pauper–ready to mourn
Or ready to laugh at this strange seeming flaw.

A Wendy’s in Dover

I found God in a Wendy’s in Dover
And I asked Him what He was doing there.
He said it was as good a place as anywhere
And He wasn’t afraid of the common.

I met God again at an Exxon in Memphis
And I asked Him where He was going next.
He said, “Miss Sherry’s” and I looked perplexed,
But He knocked on the townhouse next door.

I ran into God in a bar in South Philly
And I asked Him what He was drinking.
He said, “It’s alcoholic, not O’Douls like you’re thinking.”
And so I ordered one of the same.

I saw God again in the line at the Walmart
And I asked Him what He was buying.
He said, “Nothing–I’m only just trying
To get your attention and an invitation.”

I told God He could come visit my house
And I asked Him to stay for dinner.
Even though I was a sinner
He forgave me and stayed forever.

Honeysuckle Evenings

You came up on me like a five o’ clock shadow–
Barely there, butĀ attention-grabbing,
A touch of wetness and a blink of Spring,
A sniff of sadness and some other thing–
Melting ice and powdered sugar,
A half-lit porch with a creaky swing;
“Summer’s here,” you keep whispering.
I’m listening, always listening;
I cannot tame this barbarian.

A Valley Girl’s Lament

I, like, wish that my sentences?
Weren’t, like, so lame?
You know? Like, all questions?
And they all sound, like, the same?

Why Does Dust Dance in Heavenly Light?

Oh, did those feet in ancient time
Leave footprints in the sand,
Or were the beaches seared to glass
Beneath their Maker’s hand?

Did the holy and the worldly clash
With every footstep trod?
Did rocks dare lift their jagged heads
And bruise the heel of God?

Did mosquitoes change their diet,
Nearby babies scream and wail,
Briars scratch and ivy itch Him,
Clouds pour down swift buckets of hail?

Was it we alone who nailed Him
Stripped and beaten to the cross,
Or did all the natural world assail Him–
Stake a claim in His life’s loss?

Word it through the grapevine

Like all good writers I’m a drinker;
Unlike the best ones I’m no drunk.
I might write thoughts, but I’m no thinker,
For every poet is a purebred punk.

Creator’s Cathedral

These wooden beams like hallowed pillars rise
Upholding platforms primed with painted praise;
Sweet clay aromas mark the potter’s prize
And incense wafts from every glossy glaze.

Each eye beholds small molded offering,
Real sacrifice from heart and hand and mind–
This barn has been a place where scoffers sing,
A sanctuary for the art-inclined.

In Wait

I wait because I know you love surprises,
I wait for you to swoosh around the corner,
I wait to catch you swooning in my arms,
I wait to look upon and love you,
I wait to take your breath away,
I wait so patiently I want to brag,
I wait with chloroform and rag.

The Fool and the Infant

A swaddled bundle of happiness
..I hold in my gladsome arms,
A tender moment to treasure quick
..Would I wake to find it gone?
..Would it stay to meet the dawn?
I watch and wonder at little eyes
Both closed so still–Are your visions great?
The mirrors bronze and the walls ornate?
Do babies dream or just hibernate?

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Because Russ L asked

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