Monday, November 20, 2017

Grace is wild...


Oh, Grace is wild enough, I reckon;
She lays no blame and gives no credit;
She sends sunshine on the wicked
and cold rain on the good;
She insists God doesn’t keep score,
loves the unlovely with holy
ardor as much as loving saints.
Grace is plain about that,
neither graceful nor subtle
in her argument that God
doesn’t give a rip
about how right you are,
or what bad some say of you;
God just means you well,
wants to make some good
out of your messy life,
without even asking
to see your insurance card.
That’s what Grace says.
She has a sister, Hope,
who put down all her money
that Grace is right.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Geese overr water...


While we were out walking
on the poet’s hill today,
Spirit descended with spread wings
like the Wild Goose alighting
on a lake still chilled
from ice banished yesterday.
Soon enough,” She said,
you will be forever present
to your departed moment;
while this lasts, be here now
by this clear light,
carried on the breath
of one bright morning,
fleeting and forever
real."

Saturday, November 18, 2017

...for the duration.


There are other places I could be today, but I'd have to leave this place to get there.

Right here is where I mean to cling for the duration. Maybe I'll die here, but for sure, this is where I'm going to live.


Friday, November 17, 2017

For real...


Love God, the Rabbi said,
Love your neighbor,
Love yourself. He said it
as if it were all the same thing,
as if it were everything.
Anyone who has faith enough
to love has faith enough. Love
is all we can know of God
for sure, all we can be for real.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Cloudwalker...


Out early this morning,
gone following the ghost
through the foggy foggy dew.
So like a cloud she whispers
and moves on, almost gone
and never quite here,
ever just out of sight, but near
enough to feel her breath
on my questing heart.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The real thing...


Reuben is alive and well at Georgiana's Java Joint down the hill at 18 Church Street. The German-style potato salad is the real thing, too. You'd never find any edible so decadently delicious in Bavaria.

The java ain't bad either. Georgiana's double espresso will fuel you through at least three chapters, including a couple of re-writes.




Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Friends and strangers...


If you follow this blog, you may have noticed that lately I've been posting a lot of poetical scraps and remnants I've accumulated over the years. My plan has been to retire and become a poet when I'm 80 years old. That doesn't give me much to finish with fiction. I may have to revisit my timeline.

In any case, the Main Muse has been telling me for a while now that I ought to try to get my poems published. I take her advice seriously. She told me for years that I ought to write novels. I should have listened sooner. But for now, I have a novel manuscript that I'm pushing to get in shape to submit (again). That done, we'll see.

Until then, novels remain what I write for strangers, for pay. Poems, I write for my friends, for love.