So I must move with cautious haste

and careful to no second waste

for e’er do mine own hands plot

to see mine life become mere rot

Herefore I tred a narrow path

and harrowed by mine now and past

I press ahead each night and day

unto the heights of love, by grace

and, wary of mine hellish hands

I fill them with Thy great commands

to venture forth, e’er toward the Son

Who wars against mine fl...

I prayed for a sign today

for the Spirit spoke to me words

of places and of people who I do not know

but I must be sure they are not of my mind alone

and so I lay my fleece upon the threshing floor

Father, give me a sign that it is me that You are sending,

then I’ll go,

and give clarity to my ears to hear You more...

Your grace is more

than I could ever bear

-It’s lighter than a feather,

Lord...

For $1

I bought the book

“American Poets and Their Theology”

by Augustus Hopkins Strong

from the bi-annual library sale

its cover ancient and yellowed

its pages falling from its spine

its print back from 1919

just shy of the roaring 20’s

having been donated to the Southport Baptist Church Library

back in 1974

by a man named Rufus

whom I’d wa...

Leave ye no flow'r on mine grave

nor visit me with tearried face

if thou shalt weep, keep thine hands raised

—in Christ mine death has died

And sing to me no somber song

if you must grieve—do not be long

for all mine sorrows wilt be gone

—in Christ mine death has died

There'll be not time for gloomy clouds

nor streaming eyes—nor bitter sounds

the Son on high shall cast them out

—in...

I couldn’t sleep at all

because I’m so tired

of closing my eyes...

Ha!

Bill Maher

called out Christians

for their ignorance and silence

as our Nigerian brothers and sisters

are planted like seeds in the ground

their blood taking roots, digging deeper

and deeper into the earth

they rattle the chains of men, they do

who walk around with lies and guns

whose steps are fire, curdling that

precious blood of my kin

who I weep ...

Today I matched half a red, wooden apple

split down the center from the stem down

a little spot of weary Velcro in its middle

with half a red, wooden tomato

and I told my boy,

“They are the same, but they are different too.”

And I thought about when he’s older

I may show him Stalin and Hilter

split down the middle

next to half of Donne or Bonhoeffer

and then I thought I should ...

it’s as if there is a colony of mold

on the roof of a septic plant

flowing first through some awful funk

down into the gutter of rot

oozing then, thick like a horrible gel

steaming as it falls from the downspout

in clumps of festering forms

splatting into the mind of humanity

we clap our hands and wait for the next batch...

Nothing here is sacred, safe or sane

or so we’re led to believe

by the shadow standing in the corner

yellow-eyed and smiling

We shake ourselves awake and rise

heart pounding as we sleep our way ahead

to the family room of the old house

where we held hands in the dark

speaking sweet to the dead

listening out for the reply of the candle-lit board

who spoke words to us, we were yo...