I see the light

My noon nap halts with a burst
of Sun torching my eyelids.

Jesus      is    that   you?

I wish       If only       then life would    
go on
and on
from
singularity       to
singularity.

But. Well. That was then, I was ten.

I wanted to save Him as much as He
wanted to save me,
maybe more.

Jesus never smiled, still I loved Him
and forgave Him all my doubts
that waited like forsaken Lovers
for a letter       that never comes.

Last week churches burst open,
children shredded into shrapnel.
Things like that exhaust.

But here I wake to the blast
of yellow light
from the only star
I can't deny.

Spiral notebook

Let's open our notebooks and review:

The heart is a muscle.
Muscles have filaments, they produce force
and motion

and in that marvelous force and motion
true things come unearthed
and facts can vanish;

each filament with its own amazing ability
can create or destroy,

flood with joy today
and rage tomorrow--

the possibilities are endless.


The heart's blind and deaf, only

knowing its pulses--ardor and qualm,

dismay, aplomb,
fear

some of which are crimes

and some are cheered on.

Where the Divine waits

I have learned the Divine waits
in the squash growing in the ground,
in the Hawk's blank eye,
in the wild turkeys crossing Chabot Road,
in the deer nibbling acorn beside it,
in the pine cone that just fell,
and in the breeze drugged with lake
water, jasmine, and scat.

It waits inside the deep fog.
In backyard gardens.

Not in wheels and laptops,
not even in our houses,

Nor in he Bishop's ring or
any altar.

It shies away from the man-made,
preferring its own designs:
Spit and surf, deer grass
and the blinks of our eyes.