you always told me I was patient
so patient I will be
I'll wake up in the morning
and I'll go about my day
and I'll stop by to see you on the way home
even though you're never there
but you always told me I was patient
so patient I will be
I'll sit here on this mound of dirt
for an hour every evening
and I'll wait for you to come home
I'll wait for your voice to dance across the stones around me
like it used to
if I listen hard enough
sometimes I can hear it
but as soon as I turn, it's gone
so I'll stare at your name
engraved on this slab of granite
till the sun goes down
and maybe a little longer after that
just waiting for you to come home

Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
And only what will injure them do crave.
Men's weakness makes love so severe,
They give him power by their fear,
And make the shackles which they wear.
Who to another does his heart submit,
Makes his own idol, and then worships it.
Him whose heart is all his own,
Peace and liberty does crown,
He apprehends no killing frown.
He feels no raptures which are joys diseased,
And is not much transported, but still pleased.

the air was thick and heavy and she waited for the storm to come
having in the heat of day sweated out the demons who haunt her nights
longing for the cleansing rain to dance her spirit free
she doesn't feel it but
wants it
needs it
willing some dark prince to empty his soul out of the heavens
she doesn't feel it but is
wanting
needing
crying out in agony of losing what was never hers

Your feet are bare; freed of your sandals
and my eyes fall to stares and glances
from their corners.
I want to look at you
directly.
I want to let my eyes
traverse the waves of light
that you exist as,
until all of you
has been
explored.

But this class is blood;
teachers speak of it,
and i can feel it misting the air,
choking out any pleasantries that i could express
that would warrant me
one,
maybe two
seconds
to drink you in.

A few seconds of sight
isn't much in a four week
summer class,
i think, though,
that after all this is over
those few seconds are all i will retain.

How did you find your faith?

did you stumble upon it
was it discovered on a beech
was it heroically sought after
in the fissure of a breach?

Did you ever lose faith?

did a great expectation dwindle
was a deep held trust betrayed
did a dear friend disappoint you
ubiquitous suffering and dismay?

Where did you find it?

in the grandeur of a sacred place
in the contours of a beloved face
in the splendor of anointed grace
as balm to salve a deep disgrace?

were you riding a subway
or floating on a pink cloud
were you kneeling in a church
were bombs exploding loud?

was it the embrace of a lover
was it a crisis of deep plight
was it a soul stirring chorus
did you lose an awful fight?

in the glory of a painting
dripping petals of a desert flower
the majesty of mountain glaciers
a surging river filled with power

Could you lose your faith again?
If you did, would you know how to find it?
Where would you look if it happened?
How will you know its faith when you find it?
What does faith feel like?
What do you do when you got it?
What do you do when you get it?
How do you know you got it when you get it?
How do you know you get it when you got it?

Or are you formally faithless in a formal sense?

Signed,
Trying to Keep the Faith

Music Selection:
George Michael, Faith

Art Selection
Caprichos
Francisco Goya


101098
Stamford, CT
jbm

Halcyon grass in absent wind;
your conscience drifts away.

Alone, you watch the rising tide;
above, it ties you in.

Lost, lost, lost;
as you were, among the reeds...

you are laughing and raising hell
walking down the moving sidewalk
smoking a cigarette
when you notice the little girl
sitting on the rail
has not grown
closer