I remembered you like it was
Yesterday, a long time ago
Brown eyed girl where was
It now that we were then?
I know we had a thing but
I forget what it was but for
A moment it was all coming
Back but it was so long ago
Hidden in a dusty niche
I felt tears welling- how much
I had lost a to time-the unknown
Unnowns of yesterdays that
I had once been familiar with.
As if between dreams;
Under attic eaves in an
Amber dusty light there
Was a time every day I
Used to come and play
With a little kitten to
Forget a world that was
Too much.
Not quite real nor
Yet a dream. a place
In between>  It was you
My brown haired girl.

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.

It seems to me I never loved any
Churches except at a distance.
And could say I have reasons.
Oh yes their bells and steeples;
The gospels and their songs
Are pleasing; and lot of my
Friends claim like me there
Was a time they went but
Now have mostly on their
Own.  Still sometimes I wish
I could have foumd one I
Loved for still in my heart
I do worship Thee.  When
The Saints come marching
In I don't suppose I will be
In that number.  If there is
No room for me I will lie in
Meadow glad enough to be
By myself and I will praise
You just the same-but glad
I would be for some of my
Childhood friends  and my
Old dog; and you of course
My first love to be in heaven.
And we will listen to the bells
And the singing of the hymns
In the distance and we will be
Glad to be off where we are.

All begins in clarity
Not knowing
Not black versus white
The first step away is
The awakening
Of consciousness; the
Difference.
The absence of difference
Is not darkness versus light
It is clarity
For there is no near nor far
You know no separation
No self from others
You could call it peace
but it before even such
A knowing of the word
Which ever harkens back to
Our time in the womb of God

Love does encompass error
One thinking he loves but
Loves not. The fault is very
Inward intimate to the per-
Son who's self searching
Discovers it not but still
The core of truth is one
And so brings to repent
The proud soul- the small
Shrouded light within and
The great light without do
Meet forever in the eternity
That is the combustion of the
Wrongful if unconscious pride
That separates man from man.
In perfect love  God's glory over-
Coming all lesser knowings that
Christ shall be to us the everyman

How many thing have I left undone
I do not know,  Let me not count the
Ways I have not told you that I love
You.   Faith hope and love all shall
Be understood even without  words
Words in stillness not spoken unheard
Then

I will know that you know I  do
I will know I am there with you

That we are living in Alternative
History and How long has it
Been?  If we have anything
To thank DT for it is at last
We must take the question
Seriously and if we choose
In the affirmative- What
If anything can we do.?
Can I can you Wake up
If we don't realize we are
Dreaming; a serial dream
Of many days and nights.
I imagine it will take a  loss
Of memories, a collective
Alzheimers in which we
Return to childhood where
History is only a rumor, a
Fairy tales that has some
Entertainment value to
Adults; but  is a story
We can only enter into
By a suspension of Dis-
Belief; and what do we
Really believe in in those
Childish days  For myself:
There is a Mother and Dad
A baby sister Sue, My two
Grandmothers and my
Aunt. My neighborhood
My dog Stubby and my
First best friend Ronny.
My neighborhood of
Small houses on a circle
Other children.Exploring
A little woods secluded
And finding some big
Mica rocks and strange
Red bugs under them with
Ronnie and Stubby nearby
All the time in the world
Today...  I suppose  that this
Too is a dream or  memory
Of a dream.  But it is a
Better dream and some
Of us old folks know it.
Just too many fake facts
Today  and so Donald
It's good to know that
There is something we
Can agree on even if
Its not that you really
Won the presidency.

The courage to be is in
Our hope that our love
Will prevail.  The One
That hears our sincere
Prayers that speaks our
Deepest truest need;.Has
The power of clemency
Make yield every heart
Or despair of it's own
This is the truth that we
Shall love one another
The One that saves us is
The One who spoke it: All
In their heart of hearts do
Know it.  Of such it comes:
The courage of our hope is
That we know  that in Love
We shall over come all in a
Joyful victory that is Love's
Reward; and that Love  is to
Us given who yearned to for
It. We wait now upon the Lord
In joyful hope for the fullness
His Coming-.Coming quickly

In these hallowed halls silence echoes
Saying  am that which is not that else
May be heard.  Time is the child of the
Timeless; the void is the womb of form.
I am different from the others the hallower
Of  souls; and the faithful companion of
All who are alone and craving not to be.

Well all have fallen short  of the glory
Of God as it says in scripture  But is that
To be man's  epitaph to define us as we are?

Sin is to be false to God and ourselves
So it stands to reason that we really are
Not sinners but pseudo sinners acting a
Part that is not who we really are.. We are
Rather the children of God who forgot
That we are playing a part Poor fools who
Struggle and fret...Such things children do.

I will not argue which comes first Repentance
Or Redemption except to say God does not of
His original Being repent of Love or His own.
But perhaps it is wrong to stay His hand when
It comes to the perverseness of human nature.
His children consider not -to not to know His will
That they should live and rejoice therein though
It be their true desire-So would have Him choose
For them and to make known to them His Will
That from gross deception they should be saved=
Such is the pride of play that it forgets it plays  As
Babes up past the   bed time order run rampant when
Most in need of sleep.  There is His rod He makes
Us rest- to dream and wake again: To be who we
Truly are not all knowing- But still His children
Creation begins with an act of love so let it end.

Have you ever felt that in living
You had failed in some irredeemable
Way  Clinging to  some fundamental
Failure of body and soul-Blame God
That you have not been loved by the
One you loved with all your heart and
Still were not worthy.  Blame God.an'
Die  For He made you and in the end


You are God's failure too It is He who
Abandoned me He must not be left
Uncharged nor can He be denied justice
If He is accused He must be tried for
His crimes against humanity before
He can be sentenced to be abandoned
Too
An abandoned soul an abandoned God
God its His choice at the end of the
Road we will travel together as One
The Way of knowing Love 'n joy; or not
Knowing why we live at all.  I do not
Know if I should curse God and die or
Why I should not. if you  see me 'n not
Help me  in the troubles that drag me
To the grave with  no one I loved caring
And the One who could -doing nothing to
Change things but gave me these words 
I am telling Him I am sorry but it is how I
Feel and how He left me feeling alone,
If I speak wrongly I stand as Job and say to
God I spoke as I did because I knew not.



For Barbara My wife who first led me to Job's story
It  was Job's wife who tired of his lamenting unrelenting
tribulations  told him to: "Curse God and die"  May she
Be in Heaven where as Jesus told us none do marry...
There still we Love as we did en our better dreams

All along the way is the way
Some times unseen some times
Dimly as through a window as at
Dawn or  dusk  Day by day is forever
Forever is a long long time but I will
Be coming as long as your kingdom is
Day by day till the end of time

Dear woods forgive me for hurrying on
I would stay to know your blessed peace
But I must way; I am not ready now to
Stop and gaze and be gratified. be and be
I must away. Why?  Because I am not yet
Ready to accept things as they are  To let
Be what will ne.  I would return if God
Permits.  If I can but cannot linger now
But must find out if there is something
More Imust dp; that must be done to be
Saved.  God give me rest.  Save my soul
From ever hurrying on to an  unquiet end

In the shade rise the colors of all you love
And one by one everything is gone.  No
Not all but way too much the shade of
What was fading till the less  and less of
What once was but death you who were
From the beginning with me and who did
Paint with exquisite beauty all that I ever
Loved are now my last companion,faithful
To the end, a friend  to stand against all the
Loss.  If you leave me then I shall truly be
Alone
  It ii is a   light too great, a light without the
Night.  Blinding.  Oh death do not desert me.
I know I have raged against the dying of the
Light but now I know better.  Death did shade
My eves did make me see and love the other.  Oh
Death  must be born again for all I have Loved is
Naught if not for thee-that has been revealed  The
Last shall be the first. Hidden charity is its ensign.

the present is almost over.  Always
But the past just keeps on keeping on
You have to have to have a few years
Under your belt when decades more than
A few can seem like only yesterday and
You know a lot of water has past under the
Old bridge...
  Little children have grown up
Their children too but their play stays in
Your mind long after they have left home
In life's great theater passions we have known
Tears have been shed and so many things and so
Many curtains have come down and we have been
Left alone to know always knowng it was yesterday
Only yesterday we were on the stage in a gay
Charade or a stranger walking alone in the rain
We knew and didn't know that it would all go away
Like water under the old bridge  to come again to
Wake up our hearts  like a long lost love-kismet

Play is the animating Spirit of creation where it ends
No body knows but God has called it good....
.

Some where our love must be
Beginning.  If one should be-
lieve the beginning is lost yet
Forever threatened life is a de-
fensive seeking.  For what is
Lost cannot be found again re-
membering is a contradiction.
It is in real forgetting that love"s
Beginning is.  Is love worth less
Because it forgets; is forgotten
No  it is rather now to die for.
As Soloman said:  There shall
Be no remembrance of things
Past.  All is made new my love.

Ah the odor of the new mown hay
The good earth makes you want to
Dig down to the roots, get so close
That you can inhale it in its essence
But there is the mistake for the
Source is not deeper, it is right
Before you where the soil meets
The bright air, where the grass
Grows and the wild meadow
Flowers lately bloomed.   There
Is where the ineffable sweetness
Is and lingers yet.  It is that edge
Without height or depth, it is the
Source before the wild there at the
Very frontier of the out law country
And the peaceable homestead is the
Scent you seek to know more of
To understand the unfathomable
Sweetness of this love for another
Sleep and be with me my desire.

It is insatiable the desire to know
Nothingness; to comprehend it;
Taste it, smell it but it defies all
Frantic effort, voracious appetite.
For it is nothing; has already given
It's everything and has nothing left
To give.  It inhabits all things it is
Their holiness; and to know this
Is to let it be.  Walk hand in hand
Feel its closeness without and with
In.  To know paradise is ours is a gift
For where nothing is we need not yet
Have all by grace been given  Ojala!

As my Dad used to say.  The Truth.  Thee.
So I made you  Lies you cannot be so can
Not long stand.  Who is great is not mortal.
Pretense will fall .  A brutal crash but is yet
A kindness not least to him who made of his
Self a fraud forfeiting his soul  for vanity,  A
Child of God no more that could not long be,

I was in the stately pleasure dome
To be there.  To be there now-The
Timeless present so eternal so divine
Full of peace I saw the blood red river
Run,  I asked not i'ts meaning to know
But only to appreciate the unfolding
Vision.  Then I woke to  hear my child
Crying bleeding slain by some intruder
That    i could have stopped had  not I
Been enthralled by the guru smoke who
Said: Be there Be there now I am  there
There Is no other there is only  now....
This did not really happen but I knew it
Could.  This is the fear I can not shake
That buried deep in this most peaceful dream
Is hidden Envy the evil stranger who come to
**** all I love So I must wake for love's sake
Before  it is too  late and from this bad
Dream there is no escape like now seems
To sleep perchance to dream but aye there's
The rub and much there is I would't were not
But a dream love would call me from again
This dream I am having that my love love's
Me not So long its been it could be truth
That the stranger really came and took my
Love away from me because it was too late.


" of magic doors there is this that you do not
see them even as you are passing  through..."
                                                        Unknown

2/19

Thoughts so wonderful that from one
To he next they cannot be remembered
No nary a word of what I heard.  Twas
An elegy to an old ball player like the
Babe recited by a boy; made him to be
What we all want to be Our truth But I
Cannot remember a word I tell you the
Truth is a dream too wonderful that goes
On and on The long sought dream with
No  end but ever begins again the Truth
To renew   Ah I am old, what answers are
There but to dream better dreams Take it
All leave nothing behind.  Take to the air
Soar in the heavens on the wings of love
Where you are waiting and I am coming

And yes like Peter leaping off the boat I
Walk on the rough water when the Master
Calls- only to sink into the roiling depths
Crying out to my Friend "Save me !" Oh
Ye of little faith" He says. But it is enough.
I shall give Him thanks for my daily bread
Remembering all the good he has given me

What a dream Youth is
You go from A to Z   not
Knowing how you did it
Not even trying- Doing
Things that you had always
Been afraid to do but desired
In the hand of Fate as Desire
Got gets way.  For better or for
Worse two will do whatever
The want to;  and it is better not
To ask if it is right or wrong but
For Now let it be.  Now while the
Rose is red smell the air and call it
Love .  Why wait for another time
This time of ours will not last till
The end of time and when the crows
Come home to roost reminding us
We must say good bye  will you be
More regretful of what you did or Did
Not do.  When you can do no more.
As time goes by Let it be Lord as it was
As it is now and always Shalll be.

Heavenward ever goes the smoke
Even as our prayers.  Heaven must
Be a smokey place.  Even as earth
Knows its fogs and clouds.  It is
Only by their difference we know
The other.  Who has never known
That incomparable imperium if
Only by its loss would not know
To send a plea to God for its
Restoration.  Thru a veil of tears
Lord it seems that here I can
See your face.  In the vale thru
Sunlit mists here Love seems
To show us paradise, seems
To make us know that this is
The Beloved Promised Place.

Did I eat thereof and is that the cause of my unhappiness?
If I did I have no knowledge of having done so and indeed
Cannot claim the gain of any knowledge that I might have
Thereby gained.  Now we know ignorance is no excuse
Before the Law but the law does but by my ignorance
Declare my innocence.  It is true that God does not vainly
Command.  It is my vanity that I may think otherwise and
Indeed in my imagination deem myself unworthy and in
My enlightened mind suffers all the consequence of my
Disobedience thus in my shadow I do not see my bliss.
Still I am not the cause of my deficiency; would have it
Depart if I knew how though it be only my imagining that
Make it so. a pain of illusion born that I must die in pain
Alone and without a friend--such a illusion let it die in a
Dreamless sleep and I awake  in youthful wonder in the
Garden of the Lord as innocent as I must truly be.  Deep
Inside me I hear his voice: Love conquers all.  It is the
Voice I longed to hear more real than fear-it fills the void
Wherein I imagined myself evil justly dying without love.
In the morning I will awake and know that what He says
Is true: I make all things new; it is glory not remembered.

Every moment is a poem
Now or was or will never be
So much it says that among
Them all you have chosen me
I am not that special; plain as
Plain could be,  almost generic
I would say of all that is special.

An old man; a penny candy store
That is no more yet I remember He
Saw me and I saw him.  In my eyes
He saw his youth of days gone bye
And I saw in him the times long ago.

All is poetry as many poems as stars
In the sky- as there moments that can
Be remembered.  Now or Will Be...
Each is special the more so that you
Chose me and I chose you with me

Of poetry there is no end
from out of the heart the soul the mind
It is mined by the grace of God quickened
Always there is much never heard never
written.  All the libraries of the world can
not hold it.  It is silence that casts a spell
that no word can ere express.  It is eternity
In a moment and a moment in eternity-
the light in the darkness the darkness in the
Light.  The Savior who saves us for another
Day Who is every where and no where ......

The green leaves do no turn red and gold in
A single hour. So hope butts against the walls
That holds us within the walls of sickness but
They do not yield at once but only fall after all
Of our persistent efforts. Patience hope is kind  
Like Love says to the beloved until death do us
Part I will not leave thee in the prison of illness
I Wait upon  you with faith and I will be healed
Who gives us hope has created the eternal springs
Where in  I shall  yet drink of the healing waters
I remind myself it is easier and faster to fall down a
Hill and it  it is harder and more difficult to climb up.
Still our God calls us rise. Rise up to know His gifts























  

























winter's
.


























ey do not yield at once

If we should be what we are not
If we should do what we should
Not?  Well it will not go very well
With you and your children to be.
Hell my little ones is  a perpetual
Self-doubt that one may have under-
Estimated one's guilt combined in
A pride that one has been clever
Enough to think so and can re-
Calculate accurately enough to
To repent adequately and so gain
The righteousness of the good life
Here and salvation in the hereafter.
If only in the wonderful relief that
Comes to one who relenting from
Banging his head against the earth
It does seem so-but wait a moment
But a fraction relieved the sinner
Returns to the grind anxious that
He Has backslid.  Children I tell
You none of this real and will never
Happen but in your imagination-
You are good my obedient children
Trust me I would not tell you  if it
Were not so and about such things
I do not change my mind.  Your
Imagination may still play tricks on
You but this shall be forgotten  in
Eternity  Now go and play in the
Garden where my love is ever with
You and nothing can ever hurt you.

Fot the  door ****.  I find it.  That is my Faith
I believe what I cannot see yet know is there,,,

Flowers are his  poetry given as
His word-the promise that love
Is never dead but ever returns to
Us again; even as in sorrow we
Mourn and lay the flowers-our
Flowers down we know what is
Gone will  return again.  What
Comes from heaven speaks of
Love that though we grieve in
Knowing of our  little time it
Magnifies  our love of this time
That this beauty is not in vain
We know because we hear his
Words of promise in the flowers.

Sublime aspiration known suddenly
In falling.  Falling is easy; getting up
Can take effort-One says I will walk
And be content but temptation defies
Reason.   Eros will have its way you=
Sisyphus falls once again for the joy -
That does not last -It is so easy to fall
So hard to get up.  It is human to err...
But still we must grow up where to fly
We must fall; and Love have its  Way
Till the end that still we are children


Sweet bird of youth bird thou never wert...

Work is a a kind of prayer when
Prayer becomes a kind of work
Thy burden is lite and when you
Are confused that is for the rest

All we can ever do has been done before. Not
That it can be as it  was it now remembered.
The ways to our truth may be many but  they
End by being conjoined.and The Way  becomes
One for all mankind ;and we walk single file  a
Narrow path following faith and hope to know
The Divine; the gift of a greater Love to be-and

So become One with the Lord who lives forever;
Loves forever, who is the essence of our being-
Who we are becoming; who we truly are; Now
And for always to be realized.  This is the Way
The gift from God to each and all but know this:
It is a wonder and cannot be remembered. A gift
From God who makes all th.ings  new again





The foolishness of God is better than wisdom of men






Better the laugh of a crying child carried on the
Wind to the ears of God than all that can be said.
May I not be counted wise but as a child of God

In her youth I thought my daughter
Elizabeth was the most beautiful girl
I had ever seen.  Indeed she was and
I loved her more than words can tell.
She was born 9 months after my dad
Passed and her middle name Rae was
In his memory and I believed she had
His mortal soul left for her with all my
Love that I should not grieve more for
Him who had gone to a far better place.
So this is for Rae born on the 10th of the
Month of June in the year of our Lord
1966.  Liz be well and know that I still
Love you and always will when I think
Of that beautiful young girl given to
Me in remembrance of my father, Ray
A belated Happy Birthday greeting with
Love,David

Forgetting is ever so much better than any
Sword or mournful requiem for slaying
Evil,  And there is much I would forget
But the sweet is so oft one right beside
Or fore and aft the  bitter of it's not easy
To do; as one calls to mind the other- So
Is quite perplexing and unpleasant long to
Contemplate upon -yielding little if any
Fruit.  Then I do not know how  I just do
Stop thinking about it, for a while anyway

I am one of them that walks
Along a country path and bends
From time to time, now and then
To pick a flower and to muse upon
Love's sorrow.  Is that my Church?
It is all II can claim for us and thus
So I would have it so that if it be
Love it would be as freely won.


Mom: It seems like only yesterday.

When alternate and mutually
Exclusive realities are constantly
Coincident in our mind it has the
Strange is it not  effect that the
This miracle comes to be seen as
Most normal and ordinary...

In the Mysterious Stranger Mark Twain
Said (paraphrase) Of the world he had
Seen the "dream marks" were apparent
To those ready to see them everywhere
Then he knew that that that the dream
Was his and he was the dreamer of it
Alone forever and that it would ever
Be up to him to dream better dreams.


It has been reported in a scientific
Journal that at Ypsilanti State, a
Mental hospital that there were
Two inmates that had identical
Delusions that they were Jesus
Christ.  So in the cause of science
Deciiide in much the same manner
As boy who throw the cat by the
Tail to see what will happen put
The two patients together in the
Same room.  They were waiting
To see if there would be a bang
And were surprised, disappointed
No doubt that nothing happened
Except that the men got along.
So at least at a mental hospital in
Michigan it seems possible for at
Least two crazy men to have the
Same dream neither claiming
Exclusive possession for himself/

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.

Something old some thing new
To thine own self be true is a not
A loud command but one evermore
Softly heard.  Do not crucify your
Self on the cross of authenticity
As if you heard some imperial
Command and that to die in pain
As if you never heard His burden
Is lite To all who hear His Call

Hot hot hot
Oh stop complaining
It is rhe Summer of  Love
The earth is warm.
Know ye not that it is our
Sin that is burning, for  the
Very fuel of it Love is our sin
All  stolen treasure
You must give back.  Your
Beloved has charged you with
Imperfection which first you
Charged   You must make up
Make it right Love deserves no
Less- so you give and give again
Till all your dark sin be cleared
Your beloved restored of doubts
Her perfection not taken from her
She sees  it  is charity of your eyes
Till in fusion the two be one in love

In the brief life of our mistakes
The Lord has given us our eternity
In what was never meant to last
here there was yet justification and if
It endureth even the briefest moment
Immortal; Eternal.  Minimal yet
So plenteous they are  they that is
Sufficient to life everlasting; and as
The memory of our mistakes blazes
Unto the unremembered ashes




As by the light of the sun are we given
All of our days on earth as in heaven
For the One who made us is merciful
For by Love all that is made to endures
Endures while what passes away leaves
Us with the gift of  its time  Our time
Be merciful and thank the Lord for the
Gift of what is gone while we yet love

Strange what is heard forever echoing down
The corridors of time is the children's laughter
and a still small voice saying: Come play with
me  Come play with me again One more time".

Remember
Forget
Remember to forget
Forget to remember
Eternal life must be
Lived one moment at a time
War Plague Famine The end
Nostradamus be ******
With every happy thought
Every piece of bread that
I hungrily eat.  Thankfully
I praise God for His grace
His goodness His salvation
For the gift  of  life with all
Its promise yet to be; written
In His blood Love's Victory




For Ira a priest of David
My friend  in Berkeley California
From Brooklyn  N. Y; Morning Star
Commune  Long time ago...

Sometimes it's better to need to apologize
For an unjust ****** to wake up the sleep
Of anesthetized  conscience that is moves
Relentlessly towards doing grave hurt to
The public . That this strategy not  be too
Gratuitously deployed it must needs be
Paid for by a self wounding duly inflicted.

It is madness to smell a
Rose for the first time
You wish you could but
You never can Still you
Try and it seems but oh
Its a glorious madness
Takes you down down
To the roots of your soul
Where you have hidden
Poetry.  a line or two the
Grace of God dropped to
Save you from dispsair-
Give you back what was
Lost The glorious madness
Sanctified for all time. The
Essence of all first love  A
Glorious madness to persu

To all i haved loved in my
youth we shall be together
Again when all is made new

We are pleasing To God
For God has chosen us
To be His children to
Give Him joy and;  that
Joy He gives to us.  In the
Lightness of joy darkness
Is forgotten; sorrow is not
Remembered. In the serene
Light of His contemplations
There are the times of peace


Remembering David

There are many beautiful things here
On earth.  Places and persons we may
Visit, never going far from home.  It
Is our choice.  In nature there are what
Is called  "Acts of God"that we have no
Choice about but must get thru them
As best we can.  But for much of life
We go to places we would not by an
Act of choice.  To be fair there are to
Be sure reasons: to prepare against an
Evil foreseen; to learn from- so to avoid
A next time.  We go to war to defend
The peace-afraid to do otherwise would
Be cowardly and invite aggression. There
Is no end of rationales for our sorties near
To the bad place we would not go-whole
Segment of our society and many of our
"Finest"have it in their job description,
Are duty bind to look deeply into hell.
Is there something wrong with this?
Almost certainly.  Should we rather be
Like ostriches burying our heads in
The sand.  Be liked the three monkeys
That see no evil; hear no evil; speak no
Evil.  We should at least be allowed to
Doubt bad news-Knowing Satan is a
Liar.  We should doubt the benefit of
Being warned about evil as it so often
Lead to self fulfilling prophecies and
Errors of judgement repugnant to our
Conscience.  It is a morass.  A world we
Would not and it is all too much for us.
Our world is not as we would have it.  If
It is the truth we say unto our God: Let it
Not be so.   I give up; it is up to you to make
It better.  For my part let me do my best
To contemplate your Grandeur-Oh and
Thank you God for all the dappled things.



Acknowledging my debt to Gerard Manley.
Hopkins and his two famous poems

Let me tell you about God
Sure he is a lover of  Peace
Loves gentleness;  wants us
To be joyful in His abundant
Gifts, but make no mistake
When He breaks a man he
Breaks him and he can He
Saves only the good part.
The rest he   throws away
And it is likely the greater
Part of the  treacherous; the
Hypocrite and the  braggart
The  deceivers the lovers of
War and such like.  Sure
He is patient and slow to be
Wrathful but you would be
Wrong to think He is weak
Afraid to let you know who
Is boss in case of forgetting
He said: Vengeance is mine
And I know He meant it too.
So remember that the next
Time you meet some fellow
Wearing love beads or a girl
With Flowers in her hair.

They say in the south the past is
Not dead it is not even over-So
Where do you go when you are
Seeking where the ghosts of the
Past still live-Take your Dreams
South.  Say to the conductor do
Not stop till I am in the Land of
Where I left my true love so long
Long ago.  She was little then and
She used to tease me so till I said
You are going to make me love ya
Till   I am dead  till I am dead and
Gone  Going to where all my life
Is past and done on the Old Bard
Line lighting fools their way to dusty
Death Come to life again-Heading out
Way down South  I'm Coming Home to
Zippity do da Zippity aye My Oh My
What a wonderful Day it will be On the
Old Bard  Line When  all my yesterdays
Light my way to where My love and I
Were in bygone days so bright of yore


For Lissy

The coincidence of two worlds
Each an affirmation of the other.

I miss someone in Portland
I was there once leaving for
Berkeley having said a long
Unwished for goodbye- to one
I loved.  It was an inhospitable
Place-I recall a down town hotel
Called The Roxy Heart probably
Long gone.  It is cold and rainy
There in the Pacific Northwest
And I guess the people come to
Deserve it,  and really the one I
Miss lived elsewhere then and the
Places where I knew her best.  They
Say she is rich now but I don't know
About that only thatiss her and she  now .
Lives in the P C Northwest.  and  "Not
Even death changes us as much as life"


From Dickens {The Old Curiosity Shop}