Is it that some are too slow at
Learning wisdom or is it that
Others are too slow at learning
Patience?  Both fail at being
Godly-For God is both wise
And patient; and war is that
Grand Illusion that trumps
The hopes  of glory that is
Not to be as an apple tree
That bears no fruit nor has
It roots and is never real but
To make the gifts of God to
Be  as if all in vain and not
Known. Yet it never was so
Where love is we know It
Is  and know there is not
Another better-for He who
Is one and both lives forever
His children believing know
Two- that He is truth and life
One and both. Not death but
Victory.  We know of no end
To His Wonder and His Peace.

Another word for Charity
Love, Forgiveness Mercy
I have heard it said some
Where that Grace is the
Last guest to arrive at the
Banquet.  All is in readiness
Lord come. Come quickly.

There are many ideas we lend
Credence to.  Old saws too
Often heard.  We believe
Them .  Think they are
True in a pallid way but
Convincing proof it is no
Longer known. Yet were
Once truly experienced
Now they are tired unto
Death.  What is this but
A forgetting of tiredness
Of unfeeling.  To wake to
A new vibrancy of feeling
Of meaning, of keenly
Knowing.  Look and be
Astonished at how the
Grass is green.  Feel its
Green love.  Let it go in
You.  It is a salad that
You are hungry for.
Eat it with voracious
Eyes as the truth of
Green love.  You are
A horse set free at last
Into the living meadow
Do you not love Him
Who has said I make
All things new (at last)
But it was always so
And it is a wonder and
Cannot be remembered
I love you.  I love you.


For Stanley who loved the green

Are they to us or from us?  Who can tell
We begin unknowing and end the same.
Is there really anything in between that does
Not equal One and the same-God has said I
Am that I am- supposing He was not being
Stingy but only telling us the simple Truth
That He (She) could not say more-indeed
Did not know more-in that is he not like us
Who do not know if we are being greeted or
Greeting the wonders of the unknowable.

What is grief but a love of
Some yesterday that did
Not die a a natural death
That has been for thirty-
Forty-fifty years and more
Out there clear as a bell in
Another you that ne'r has
Departed but wait upon a
Tomorrow that does not
Come- that stays the same
Waiting for its part to play
That never comes...
While all about is not the
Same.  If we only knew the
Sorrows  time would bring
How we would have greeted
Life as the long missed lover
Such a joy would not be lost

The morning sun in the afternoon is
Transcendent as it bends back time
To the heart's desires to harvest all
The things left undone.  One time
Is not enough for all of God's Glory.



for my daughter bubbling water in the
Spring remember me.....

Here everything Blends
Everything separates
It is wonderful and it is
Terrible...
The blinding sun, the pitch of
Night.
Nothing and everything:
Mortal time and eternity
I am and I am not
I am that I am
Thus my Father spoke to me

Does it cost too much?
Think about it: If there
Is no evil there are no villains;
No hateful despots; no greedy
Speculaters; no starving children;
No deadly diseases-to name only
A few of the legions of evils that
Plague, torment and grieve   us.
But if these were gone what of
Our charities,of our vain glorious
Good deeds.  Vanity all is Vanity
Sayeth the preacher.  We pray to
The Father to make it on earth as
Is in heaven but is it reasonable
For men to think that it be so-that
The only truth be manifestly so?
No it is not reasonable. And is not
Our reason our greatest treasure
Perhaps equal to heaven itself for
It promises to guide us to all we
Hope for-.Yet the key must be
Given up to the door and we
Parted from it if the gates of
Heaven are to be swung open
For we are like little children
Who know not what they do
For of such is the Kingdom.

It is quiet now My father speaks: tells me
It is his good time.  I do not answer only
Remember; and think now about the end
As one who cannot know I do believe that
Though I would it not I shall say to all: "not
My will but Thy will be done. Though I die
My duty's done and the evening like morning
Like one then our will shall in eternity be and
I shall again hear your voice telling me: You are
In Heaven with me now; and now is my best time

How could this be  This awful reality
Falling into the fire  burning above and
Below me. a terrible reality from which
There was no escape but one.  it was not
To fight  but to sleep in the midst of it all
To sleep or burn  in a reality from which
There was no escape.  I dreamed I was
By the still water that ran so deep in my
Youth.   Could it be? How could it be?  I
Awoke.  Woke to the morning sun and
Knew not believe again all I thought true.
Knew if it  told me my life was  in pain over
Dead and never to return; all taken  from me
To sleep perchance to wake.  An easy choice
My burden was lite,  Only to let my self sleep
And wake born again giving thanks for my life
And All things made new I gave my love to all
Who sleep that they may in  newness wake again

It is not that I did not fight against the  dying of
the light but in my strength  I failed. but in the
end I found the way to understand the Master"
"My burden is lite...'And in that was the answer
"

With Thanks to Eliot and all my readers

Her smile constant and genuine
As the sun.  Declared delight in
Being here just in being here.  
To be seen for this moment by
This most appreciative audience
Who seeing how lovely she is
Look happily on their child in
Fascination that such joyfulness
Should exist so unaware and so
Unaffected by the weary, sordid
World for our sake to be here.

Oh such a pompous ruckus
Would not silence be better?
Sour grapes you say; maybe so
But A little quiet is all I ask.
A little wine?  well maybe just
A little.    How was it?  Good.
Maybe just a little more.  Now?
Good .  So no sour grapes?  I
Say sour grapes be ******. This
Is wine.  Let me have some more.
Good stuff this.  I think now I can
Hear  His song...His  Truth is Marching
On and i hear my soul Going with Him
And I will listen until ... stillness speaks
His  name...for there is no other I hear
And I shall make a joyful noise unto Him
Wherefore Now I am singing His Song
Is it not for His Glory that I am strong
I can hear I will Hear  I can sing I will
Sing a song that has no end to my Love

For Old  41. and the People of Navisota
who saw him pass on the train 12.6.2018

To live is first to know
Not to be known
What is it to be read
Even famous long ago
After you are gone-It
Is not Immortality.

Rather let us endeavor
To know and ever to know
Call it self love but who
Can love another who is
Not alive-If we have any
Community the We begins
With I.  Be fierce to live. It
Is your country even if alone
Then if you sleep you will
Rise from every dream even
Death- as Christ did Knowing
He was still in His Fatherland

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

The last regret of unhappiness is that one is
Leaving that most familiar place that you
Gave your best to and failed, a first love and
You know you cannot go home again-last and
Enduring when all else is forgotten a thought
Of former times still dear not of this world are
Treasures stored in Heaven.  At the Zenith of
Life and knowing it you will have the same
Sorrow for a time and place that will never be
Again.  For you have  returned to that home
Of your youth that like all things sublime
Cannot be remembered to which you have
Returned and will return again and again till
All unknowing your journey takes you home
Forever and forever Love dying is being lost
Moment my moment Love is being reborn.
Now is a time like all times and we fellow-
Travelers are learners knowing these are the
Best and worst of times, a time like all times
We are coming to going from Love-Home

Days
When you cannot find a friend
half is= make do as one but  it is
Not the same nor am I.  It is not
That you have tested the  tensile
Strength and now know the breaking
Point but that once our hearts danced
In the sun and  considered it not.
I remember the day I asked my father
How it was he had so many friends?  
Said it was not so that in life one has
Only a few.





Much  water has passed under the
Bridge since that day.
Unsaid was  that I like him would
Know and honor times long gone
I  gave more to the few I knew then
Than the many who came after. Still
Under the bridge the waters flows.  A
Reminder that there is an equality to
Now and then but also a difference too  
Not soon  to be forgotten but live on.
These are the days of our youth when
We had few friends and knew no better


For Ray





s

e

In that darkest hour;In that timeless
Moment of total loss; and death takes
Hold I cease to care and in that instant
Moment or
Eternity I do not know.
Then within the shroud of darkness
A shining point of light is born .  It
means:






       I must go back even to a world
Of troubles For there is Hope in life
That survives all death..I am with thee
Still a child of our God Eternal I am  
It is my Father's Wiil: I must go on...



































' I am with thee
Still; Born again. a child of God I am

Was it loved denied or love expressed?
I sent you away whom I loved.  I acted.
Perhaps had I waited but I didn't.  Acted
When I did not know.   And now like a
Musical note resonating Still I do not know
Was it for the best.  It was not some trivial
Matter  but a question about love.  What it
Is?  Whether it was in me guiding me? Or
Was I a selfish fool traveling a long lonely
Road  never to know which way love is
Unto silence the tone fades and then it is
Reborn. Without a Knowing: how repent?

As the North posits the South  look Away
Look Away Dixie Land where the past has not
Even passed  Aye there is a Paradox A Paradox the
Molecule from which the Universe is built Look
Away Dixie Land and I shall forget your sins and
You shall rebuild and not know your paradoxes.
Thus speaketh the Lord who is ever merciful


Remembering Casey

That seems obvious enough
But drink deep from the well-
The water sweet and clear tells
Of The goodness of the source
Divine is forgiveness without
Knowing the crime it speaks to
The world  its Innocence. Who
Drinks and knows should drink
Again for the evil is not revealed
It is may be healthy to admit a
Possibility of sin that requires us
To Thirst but not a necessity only
An option-Could be  just a love of the
Living waters from the eternal springs
That bids us drink to drink deep  Can
It be so wrong to be skeptical of evil
Let the good and the truth be one that
The Lord may
Keep His promises
To us
      ------------------------------
Has hating evil never forgetting-
ever made us kinder?
Better there be lies than  lies be true.
(not to say i  am  always wise enough
To know the difference} " Where was I"
He asks me" When  I made the Leviathan?"
That I knew not I said was why I spoke as I did.
s

If I could impart to you
The beauty of the glowing
Grass You would not ask
Me the meaning of the
Universe nor need to.


For Stanley

The wheatt grass girl was like
TheWee people, more spirit than
Woman; less sun than moon-
.  I would like to  catch her but
She would die.  It is better she
Is free and not mine to keep
It is a wane wine that I drink
That she may come near to
Take a sip.  I know she loves
The green tea more than me
But stiill I would like to know
Her better  like the Spring
Before she is gone forever.

Am  i more or less
There is a less that is more
Than I will ever know and
A more that is less than all
i am...So be of Good Cheer
With nothing to fear that will
Not wait till next year that is
Only a thought of  mind walking
Upon a lonely shore thinking of
You again and again. Once more


For Lissa

A moment ago my Father was
Pushing me now I am swinging
By myself.  
The sky is blue.  The earth is
Green.  The sun is some place
Unseen.
I am swinging by myself.

The Unchanging said I am that I am
In that  That He is not redundant,not
Repeating yet unceasing.  No matter
That He is enduring.  As Emily D said:
I am nobody; Are you nobody 2 0 and
1 in a sense there is no other I am but
The One that can declare He is nobody
I am that I am and I am and there is
Naught beside me and that I am also.
I am the sole sun of all that is and that is
Not. I shine in the darkness and the dark
Comprehends me not. Love is all there is

I entered athe land of Chance
(or so it seemed) there to seek
The beauty of the love that i
Everywhere and there  Ifound
Old friends and new So many
Treasures everywhere but all
Fragmented ;friends I'd made
That I could not keep.   So to a
Greater loneliness I woke again
To my defeat (or so it seemed)
By love rejected and so far away
Without chance or,friend to play
As if in a pool I looked down at
Myself and decried the abominable
Wretch I had become only looking
Down on my sorrow ne'r realizing
It  was in the sky above me and the
Forlorn one I rejected was the Christ
Above me that  I rejected.  Disgraced
Beaten and defeated. Yes I am sorry
I admit it for it is God's Truth Too


*I was ignorant therefore I spoke as I did...
From the end of the Book of Job when the
Lord asks him where he was when God created
The Leviathan?  Children forgive me that I spoke
As I did.  I am sorry and ask you to forgive me
Even as the Lord did Job for Love"s sake...

Seems like all my prayers get answered
But it is always in some half baked way
Like God was laughing at me  saying see:
You should have given me more details.
The devils in the details I know but I think
That I should not have to be so Speciific.
You should be able to full out my requests
So as not to make a clown out of me and
Did I mention some things really hurt, still
Do. I have to admit I have learned a lot by
Having to learn to make do with this rough
Draft for the masterpiece I meant iy to be-
Still I wish I could say to you like Job that
I spoke as I did because I knew not and
You would accept that and say I spoke
Truly and that I was really a very good
Fellow and that you were going to give
Me back all that I have lost and more to
Boot.  I do believe  but please keep your
Promise soon because otherwise... I may
Not live long enough to appreciate it

Something that cannot be remembered
Writing for the universal other.  Everyman
Who knows my story is his own.  His story
Is my story.  Spring; Summer; Fall; Winter
When the glory is forgotten only the naked
Idea remains.  Bare branches reaching in to
The sky in dispair of its prayer being heard
Then a solemn quietness comes to the heart
Marking the passing-  Now it is Spring  for the
First time in all its glory the newness that could
Not be remembered but now is forever if it die.

What truly should be  actually Is
If we love one another what is war?
The grand illusion that is  defeated .
For men and nations.It shall  not long

Endure.The greater truth is with us
Even now though still it seems so far
Away. For we ever live more by faith
Than we do  know and walk in the
Light of hope when we cannot see-
Towards and in the mystery of love
It is thus our prayers are answered:
Thy Kingdom Come on Earth as it is in
Heaven  That Thy Will be done,  Then
Shall we say it is now and  was always

There is a story about St. Theresa of
Avila t5hat on her death bed, in great
Anguish she spoke to the Lord saying:
Lord I have given up everything for
You.  All I have left is my faith; then
The Lord answered her saying: Sister
Give up our Faith.  Hard words but
The reward was so much greater and
More wondrous than the sacrifice it
Could not be known.  Even so it the
Same for everyone as for the saint.

for the poet it is his words.  For if
We would see God face to face is
Our dream we must sacrifice the
Dream to have the dream come
True.  in the end to give up our
Labor to experience the glories of
The harvest.  Give up the dream
To make it actual.  This is the all in
All where the destination does not
Lose the Way. The Hope of Love .
Love itself are one in the rapture.
The promises of Spring find their
Fulfillment of Summer.  With each
New season we must have given up
Ita memory.  As an old New England
Woman when asked if she did not get
Bored by the autumn having seen now
Near a hundred times?  Her answer:
It is a glory and cannot be remembered.
Yet as it is revealed it is also resonant.
We must have a dream to have a dream
Come true-So we must forget the dream
To have the dream be realized  God has
Said He Makes All things New.Have we
Carried a treasured burden give it up.
So I lay down these words that they
May be given u pas lost children that
Will be restored to me as in Heaven.

For a while we in a model seem to see
The whole-Then it is a fragment. a piece
Of ancient pottery, a bit of trash on its
Way to the dust from which it came.
Of such is the glory of poetry: A dancing
Girl-An old woman dying.  The bird of
Paradise that never was- the phoenix
Rising from the ashes so that we may
Know all is all.  Infinite is the pathos of
Our gladness no less glorious.  Slow ...
Time is our genius to be .  For a while.

{tale of the mouse famous long ago}

Little me said to big me: You may
Be Big but i am the One who first
Imagined you-you really are but a
Small part of me.  Big me grinned
Like a cheshire cat and said: You,
You imagined me!  Now that is a
Joke.  You aren" worth a purr back
A small bite and showed him his big
Teeth like a king looking at   a cat.
But I was not chagrined but said if
You will please step aside I can open
A tin of your favorite fish, what will it
Be tuna or
salmon what ever you say
He sniffed the air as if uncertain and
I not to be out done said say what you
Will I am your servant but the choice
Is mine to believe what I believe... and
You are my beloved cat,my Jezabel;
And low she purred for little me so the
End came to our meaningless dispute.

Only if you can forget  who you are can
You live forever.  Knowing who you are
Is to know your inevitable mortality.So
Would you rather live forever or know
Who you are?  There is no easy answer
Who has not asked to live a little longer.
But it says in scripture: There shall be no re-
membrance of things past- (or yet to come)  
To let go of all you have known and love!
Out out brief candle- dying forever is  not a
Life as we would like it.  We say Jesus lives
Is he among us and does  He know He will
Be crucified or is He yet an immortal unknown
Perhaps a Christmas baby born to a stranger on
on this day like we all  once were? To Life; To...-

With a nod to Mark Twain who gave us "The Mysterious
Stranger"and a wonderful life.

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

It is the poets objective to make
The longest waits short; to sum up
History; the whole from its ending
To its beginning, distilling the truth
In its essence and to leave the  chaff
To fall away  So we can get on with it
Let the glory be, to go on and on. On earth
As it is in heaven  Praise and Joy without
End,  It is the least we can do for whom the
Bell tolls that we may tell God we know.
Know
That It is now Now that you are with us.

Come
my little dreamer friend
I love you.  Do not let me
Dream alone.  Let us play
In the pleasant land and
Know all the joyful hours
that are ours.  Then let
Sleep come and take us
Weary to our bed till full
Of rest  we wake to dream
Again of our never ending
Love

There is hidden charity.
Where?
Where you think there is none.
Why it is here you mean?

Just so.
But if it is so Why is there so
Much sorrow?
Blessed are the poor...
Ha how can that be; if it
Were so all would wish to be
Poor.
It is great mystery is it not?
He said: My burden is lite
Unpack your goods it is
Almost Summer.  Let us
Rest beneath that tree.
See it labors not, has not
Nor wants more yet how
Great it grows.

My arms hung limply at my side  until I sensed a heavy
Weight as  in my either hand denying me the right to raise
Them up.  Then it was that my will came to me and with
That other will against me I put my hands up.whether it was
In praise or surrender, one or both I do not know myself.

But it was by that odd gesture that my life was saved.


For Sue

Once there was a garden It is
Still there very near here We
Can smell its fragrance sometimes
Of honey suckle  mixed with roses as it
Comes to us upon the summer breezes
But without innocence we cannot
Enter in    Romulus and Remus suckled
Upon the she wolf teats They were babes
Knew no better than  that she was kind to
Them  Are they not our brothers too in the
Long ago when we  too dwelled there in
Were naked and  unafraid  A parable is
A metaphor to dress the truth and make it
More acceptable to some ears than what
Simple innocence  would make clear.  It
Will be with tears that we douse the fiery
Cherubs "s flames that guard the gates of
Paradise where once we walked naked and
Unashamed and knew then the purest face
Of love that we would ever know the gift
that was our beginning  to be as God  made
Us as He makes us even now dressed only in
Our Innocence that no apple comes between
That I knew not the truth I spoke not the truth
With tears of sorrow and joy I know He has
Opened the gates as if they were never there
Is this not my Father  the Father that I love

I ask where is my wonder I wonder
The greatest riddle there is If truly
Asked is always found; the search
For meaning, the reason for the
Quest is to know the wonder of
Wondering, the wonder of it all
To wonder peacefully, tirelessly
To know then the peace that is
Beyond understanding of such
Is Heaven and it can be known  
Here on earth in a child's eyes.

When the whispering pipes are heard
oft we  remember as if in a dream the
deeds of derring do otherwise known as
treason, and treachery punishable still by
death and shame were they known and-
done now.  Was it courage, youthful folly
or the grants of intoxicants that gave us a
victory that is but survival when we should
have perished with our now stateless friends
Have we been forgiven?  Have we  repented
who can still remember the liberties we took
the passion we felt still feel in the south of our
souls where history is not over; is not even past
Oh Father forgive us.  Grant us peace that we
May remember and still laugh without shame
to be among the fallen for love's sake the times
This time of our togetherness and remembrance

I tried and tried to make my
Children understand-make my
Self clear but still they did not
Understand  They were on info-
Overload and I was too old to
Understand- so much on them.
Made me a little crazy mostly
Protest and just to be let alone-
A reaction to the way they said
The world is -so must be obeyed.  

Doctors  were called in and I was
Diagrosed: Early onset senescence
Senility.  Now no one is to blame
Everything is still the same- but  is
Just a mystery and cannot be cured

That we no longer love enough or the
Time to give  to the old folks at home
Never wanted to be a burden anyway
Plenty of immigrants glad to do it.
The children thank the care givers hold
Them to the standard of the holy good
Course its not so but makes them feel
Better about themselves.  We are all vested
In our delusions.  Have you heard the one
About hell being filled with execrem,ment and
There is a hmingm sound but when yout close
Enough you will hear the words: No waves...
Please do not make waves were in this stuff
Up tp our chins and you must not make waves.

Oh My Love
Won't you come back
I have been possessed
By your absence
I am tired of trying
Tired of Crying
It does no good
Still I cannot see you
Be with you.  Cannot
Forget your absence
It was all I had left
Could not let it go
Though I knew it
Was not you. No
It is not not you I seek
Leave me.  Go! You
Are not my people
I set you Free.  Oh
Hosea Let me tell
My People I have
Not forgotten you
In that place where
You said: You are
Not my people  There!
You became my people.
Praise be to the God of
Abraham who's son was
At the last moment was
Not sacrificed but saved
Your Love that seemed
Not to be but still was

When all history comes and goes
In the blink of an eye all is unknow
Able.  From dream to dream with
out beginning or end, and all would
Be well but the mad men who tell
Us what is and is not positing more
And more complexity proclaiming all
The while they are the saviors of
Mankind.  It is a great burden, a
Travesty of truth; unbelievably
Cunning.  So the dream ends in
A crucifixion.  Love is dead.  God
Is no more.  On the bright side
Thank God it is finished and you
Return with  no remembrance of
Things past to make you smarter.

Was the memory of the word before it was written; or was the word in the memory or the memory in the word.  There are ragged wholes in the memories of the old.  People gone; landscapes and places, entire epochs gone.      Not neatly subtracted but torn out, rent out large moth holes chewed out.  It is this irregularity that makes them poignant.  They cross the regular boundaries like pages ripped and irregular across the measured grid; and we are like  ancient wanderer mendicants are dressed in holey beggars garments from all the countries of the heart still homeward bound, clowns of time becoming the naked memory of that which was  was before the world.

A man may do wrong and think
He is right; but in the crucible he
Learns otherwise.  He may do evil
Knowing he is evil but in the trying
Of the crucible he learns otherwise.
There is a truth beneath even the
ost grime ridden soul that none can
See that even wisdom knows not.
For we are players who are not what
We seem even to ourselves but in the
Crucible there is a way that may save
Even the most godless soul who never
Learned His Grace.  For none no not
One is good but all do play and it is
the child that catches the conscience
Of the King who understands what
We must learn that we are but poor
Players who are yet worth His love.