North by Southeast

A thousand arrows pointing different ways,
We sold off every brick of yellow road–
Each man a compass rendered to himself
What sacrifice was made for trick of gold
Or passion–wanderlust without the wander–
Or power, how we laughed and labeled it
As freedom.  True!  For we defined the truth:
A half-ton balderdash and half-ton @#!%

Seven Color Crystal Boll

Rip the pack and pour the rubble,
Baby beads make double trouble:
Water wobble bauble bubbles!

In Short

I long
For you like kids
Long for the bell to ring
Announcing that they’re done with school
And free.

“God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.”–Phil. 1:8

Under Pressure

The alarm rang for the last time;
He sprang
To stop its chime
And stumbled in the dark as he got dressed.
The lark
Sings morningsong; he’s not impressed:
He feels pressed like wine.

He feels pressed for time

“Alright, which one of you samurais chopped the moon?”

The lines go by with varied speed,
The skylines treed
Then bare again
Like winter kin.

Drafty Dinner

I set the table with embroidered tablecloth
And light some candles casting shadows everywhere.
A flicker shifting air encapsulates the room;
The china catches flames with its reflective sheen
Illuminating all that falls within its range.
A silence settles in like frost on winter grass:
My face alone like ice reflects from drinking glass.

Mirza Luke

A boy, the firstborn of his mother’s womb,
Sharp wounding arrow shot into the sky:
He bursts the clouds, the silver pours forth gold
As blessings heap in mounds, far rich rewards;
The fallen leaves are treasure troves explored
As gasping piles yield quickly unto life
And Olney bends so slightly to behold
The ten-year-old who runs within its bounds.
Time passes, leaves leave dust then loam,
A nineteen-year-old garden neatly tended:
A fertile planting ground for roses sweet
With thorns, though few, for he is not a god,
But throws his voice, an incense, heavenward,
Pleasing aroma resonating strong:
Jesus Christ the Apple Tree his song.

Magistra Omnibus

Joyful expressions
Abundant wise energy
New knowledge flows free

Photo by Alison Johnson


For Olivia

I looked for inspiration in your pics,
But found your story only partial there;
You pointed gently to the crucifix
To separate the wheat stalks from the tare,


Reepicheep dance,
Back, advance, back–
Balance those feet.

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Because Russ L asked

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