My friend was depressed and
He had good reason to be
I came at him with some very
Pretty arguments that things
Were not quite so bad as that.
He listened quietly as he drank
When I finished he said that is
All very fine but it is just after
All only a thought of mind.
And I knew it was so.  What
After all do all our fine words
Amount to?  Can they change
Great injuries and make them
Seem gracious and beautiful.
Can we live in a perfect world
Where we are not, may not
Really be.  I thought of those
Friends of Job who gave him
Good counsel but spoke not
Understanding that it was
Not wisdom that was wanted
But the light of knowing what
They did not know- Joy actual.
wiithout which wisdom remains
In darkness; and is meaningless.
There is a new paradigm, that
Quantum leap into another
Experience that is not known
Before it is known.  In that place
We must stand Like Job knowing
That He did not Know pleading
Ignorance before the whirlwind
God made manifest is known.
Till then it is all only a thought
Of mind.  My friend you were
Right and I a fool unknowing

For my friend Charlie.

a place of refuge that you have
because you suffered until you
like water made a cave to be in
until you at last found release
then learned that all your
treasures were your pain
taken up to the Heaven
where things that are no
longer remain in that blessed
place unchanged and you
can come upon them again
When your God calls you
Home

In another room next to mine
Tap tap tap tap tap tap and
Back again in a pitter patter
Rhythm on the floor I can hear
Her life  She is bright vibrant
Emphatic all alone-I know her
Spirit.  She is what has right
To be in my blood.  She is in
The room next to mine.  Soon
I will go to her.  She will teach
Me there once again what it is
To be a child to play again in
The  ellyisian fields of forever.


For Lysa remembering Santa Cruz

Just before the sun fires of the
Day are turned low--when the
Bright Summer sky is still pure
Blue the Little League Park is
Full of children and older folks.
The children play games of no
Names that are as old as the hills
It is liked a revival meeting with
No tent or preacher only people
Come as  to some long ago Druid
Holy place.  I say to myself
Come my heart to me on this
Bench of former times; let my
Soul recline and be at peace
All is well is it not though I do
Not belong and am only a
****** incognito and alone.
Just beyond the field is the
River and across the river the
Church my parents married in.
There also the old high school
their alma mater in that quaint






Old time that was just before
The war.  I had stopped here
For reasons I cannot explain
I had roots of conception in
This town but not by birth
All was to me as Willoughby
My home in a wishful dream.

The cliche is like a ringing bell that must
Be dying before it can be heard again
Ever ringing unto itself so gaining by
Its echo newness by being forgotten.

The roar of love though it have no
Audible part commandeth hearing
Unto acceptance of its precepts that
No raging despot can ever acchieve.
For to it comes the willingness of the
Heart, the mind and soul-not merely
The outward forms of coersed acts,
But the heart made glad, the mind
Made clear and the soul knowing
Peace; eclipsing dark fear with a -
Radiance brought to life by love.
Listen well and you will hear His
Voice-In the heavens and on earth.
When on the road to Damascus...

That I sleep and do not know
Where I go but there am beguiled
Hoping for ever fairer dreams   go
Beyond all waking constraints to
Another place that I do not de-
Liberate- where some terror may
Wait where I may do wrong or
Have wrong done to me-it is the
Price of dreams that is godlike
To let be...forsaking if need be
The rational.  But awake is it
Any different  do not desires
****** freshly minted by
Opportunity to lure us on
Perhaps suffer in consequence to
Great woe yet who can
Say this I will do not again?
Plausible is every dream and
Knows not right or wrong so
Is man's fate to go along by-
Passing the question of evil till
The deed is done.  It is this
That is innate that leads us to
Know that such a one is not
Wise but may fall prey to
Judgements just and unjust
Yet still in the savage grip we
Seek the One that is above
Again and yet again like
The wayward child that I am
Perfection ever eludes me but
Yet in my weeping still I claim
The protection of His Love.
The crying child knows ever
To His Father he may plead
For mercy.  Just or Unjust as
His cause may be it is not re-
Levant to to one who seeks
Remedy.  For Love is greater
Than bookish law to the Giver
And He who  knows His child''s
Thirst to drink of the everlasting
Waters- will not deny him drink.
The gift of love is life in full.He
Forget our sin. Who remember
Him are His beloved children.