I hate to be phobic
Or repetative
Hate to be petty
But I worry
That one day
It will all run out
The words, the thoughts
The pictures
And muses
Swirl and slip
Down a sink in my soul
Like a vapor
That I'll sit down
With a pen
And have nothing
Nothing left to say
Worth saying
That hasn't been heard
Imagined
Or spoken
It doesn't make sense
But still
The gremlins ****
Leave me be
Let me write in peace
For as long as I can

All things – all – must end
Not just good, but bad as well
So here I am swallowing hope
To cure my belly’s new personal hell
For poems have reduced to mere points
And the poets who paint them just pawns
Compelled to take drags of this joint
For a prayer that our work carries on
Neighborhoods turn into ghettos
Victorian houses accosted by ramblers
Starving artists must don their stilettos
And we stay because we’re all gamblers

If I were a spirit
I'd be ***
Bittersweet
Or an elf child
Light of feet

If I were a dye
I'd be red
Smoldering
Or a yellow
Emboldening

If I were a bird
I'd be a sparrow
Quite plain
Or an arrow
Restrained

If I were a rock
I'd be iron
Steadfast
Or a tear
Long to last

If I were a gem
I'd be broken
But blinking

If I were a word
I'd be spoken
Not thinking

I live in a world without faces
My friends are screen-written in black
Via virtual reality, we speak
Through computerized smiles, we laugh  

I know what each one is doing
Every second of every long day
My own moves are ripe for the viewing
So, too, the great thoughts I will say 

We chat and we email and text
Rarely catching a voice on the phone
God knows whatever comes next
Will leave me busy, but wholly alone 

The experts from so many places
State we gain more, with time, than we lose
But if in gaining, I lose only faces
Then I’d trade for the olds, all the news

Stained glass coffins
Crystalline mosquitoes
Death that masquerades
In silken flags and floras
Languorous beauties
Graffiti of red and violet light
Sirens kiss the bullets
As they scatter them
To burn holes in sepia dreams
Watercolor ghosts
Casting out wildflower candy
Attics that hide under
Strawberry dust and lemons
That melts into mildew
As they pass down the gullet
Layers of ashes in the belly
“But you told us to swallow!”
Masses of children howl
The pretty ghouls hiss back
“Cannot you tell a lie by now,
By the sweetness of its taste?”

Out has slipped away my breathWith a Love that defies deathBanishing the worried qualmsEnfolds the soul in utter calmGod of Heaven and this earthWho gives me life and second birth

I am a reflection of the Great
The One who was
Before anything else came to be
One who is the essence of Good
Yet I cannot help but see
How if I reflect Him
How much more does He also
Correspond to my humanity?
For is it not so
That I am human
Only because He made me to be so
And that my humanness
Was, as He said, the image of Himself?
So, in a sense, God is more human
Excepting the failings,
Than even I am
His sorrows are deeper and sharper
His laughter is more radiant
More joyful and abundant
His pain so intense
That my eyes squeeze shut
Merely to contemplate its acuity
If I love beauty and warmth
How much more does He love it?
If I am jealous for those I adore
How much more His jealousy for me?
If I wish to be great and purposed
How much stronger
His good wishes for me?
If I feel alone and lost
How much more alone does He feel
When I seek not to be with Him?
I serve a GodWho cries over me
Who rejoices over me
Who loves fiercely
In a suddenness it springs in me
The idea 
That I am man
Only because He first
Was God