Oh, corpse! Yet not a corpse at all
Though from the bleak tree you did fall
And though no breath now swells your lungs
Your voice, once praised by mortal tongues
No longer sounding in our ears
Bloodless lips kissed by women’s tears
All blood exhausted from gashes
From blows and nails and vile lashes

But what a secret lies here; hark!
This bruisèd frame the promised ark
A chamber where all souls are hid
Hell trembles at his love-mad bid
For while grave death his chamber keeps
His flesh unsouled, he merely sleeps
Mark, dear heart, where the Master lies
This wounded flesh, it aches to rise

Do not, I beg, force me to choose
Not when I have so much to lose
I will gladly simply obey
Tell me to leave, tell me to stay
But please do not make me decide
We’re way beyond mere paltry pride

I need you to give a command
I’ll comply with any demand
But do not so cruelly require
Of me that I somehow desire
This great, austere, forbidding cross
Do not ask me to want the loss

But oh! How far are we from love
How awful! Forgive me, my dove
Heed now, dear heart, my broken voice
Desire, it will follow the choice
Comfort cannot come before it
I choose the cross, beg, implore it

the sparrows and their song
visited my windowsill this morning
their notes
a poem
a memory
a whisper,
“we are here, we sing.
you are here, so sing.”

I season my lies with grains of truth
which make the average story worth its salt
it touches me between the tongue and tooth
so every falsehood shines without a fault

what's true is slippery banana peel
your story flips the coin of one I tell
believing only one side shows what's real
buys you a ticket to a special layer of hell

so hold your facts lightly let them fly
watch their feathers turn from royal blue to gray
know you know nothing 'til the day you die
for truth is shaped from brittlest of clay

Truth is lighter than the tiniest of flea
its bitter bite jars us into harsh reality

Whistling of night trains
mingling with the sound of rain
haiku-master writes