Many times,
You have said vociferously;

......for all success
and in all failure,
faith is the key.

And many times,
I have tried to reason
against the equation
of ritual and religion.

But,
in the fashion world
of materialist-spiritualism,
where majority conforms to modern tradition,
I have often found it convenient
to ignore the dictates of reason
and still more convenient
to believe in the corollary;

......faith is the key.

Therefore,
I have mostly believed,
......in your faith
and in your prayers
......for me.

start comprehending what Paul,
arrogant, if Pythagorus be so called.
The apostle, witnessed in the spirit to the
prophets, who warned, they'll
re-tie you to some rules
yule never keep

once you believe you have seen the earth
from the moon, immutable morphs into a
bigger deal where little matters less

than what one of us lets be true.

If self be logos and capital letters, Turkey mean squat,
hexagons mean stop
sometimes they do some times they dont
like spells for finding witches

long ago, the legends say bold Constant C,
dictates all reality
in terms

of timespacetimespacetimespace
By consuming these words you self
evidently know to chew
your blue berries,
everyone's thrill, cheap trick.

selahlahlah meandering in Shaubergian curls,
Fibbonacci swirls to back around rocks too big
to roll, rilling li'l' vortices to under mine
the flow through
that which does least good? whoa.
wasted
time. right. we exist in words. This may be ever.

I went through a phase,
some time
back, when I gave the whole dear reader possibility fog
the power of may,
I said may is your word now and you said we may
as well see where this leads.
Here.

--- is that a line? line upon line line?
precept or per
except

you see cept re grabbing and gripping taking or

accepting, with whole being connection restoring
power, absolutely,
to unthink unbelievables idly uttered with
phluckingoddamthing

weir-ish fish traps served the forest, power dams don't/
but electricity,

she is a child of all the gods, come to serve us all,
for as long as we can keep the only evident inter galactic life pod we have, balanced
along the spiral
of life.
May be or Amen, all the people sayit and that' is not always
the way it goes.

Current speed, each, 1/1300th C. Thrilling, can you breathe?

She opened the window above his bed
(How else will his spirit rise?)
I could have said
that his is a spirit that defies convention -
domestic or foreign -
his spirit would not wait for our permission.
But instead I smiled
at the February chill and the gas bill
that would have made my dad shudder.

At the bridge under the Garden
of Poets, I sit and chew
on the world as it is

I see the people go, young, tired
or recklessly on their way
defying the patron saint

that dangles from the interior mirror
or walking late on the side, packs
or down timber on their head

and the symbol around their neck
on the shoulders of their souls
and as hangers in the wardrobe

The cross is everywhere

On the square it has holes
of the nails, living water
spouts from the copper

The redemption will come later
people are in a miserable state
I can see it on the faces

of Jesus in the stores
sadly he looks at me
for sale for little money

and i know we’re not supposed to chase love, trust me i know
but darling why do i want to chase you
even though
i know it’s wrong?

they say you should let love find you, but what if i already found you, and i just have to wait for you to find me? that’s not wrong right?
right?
right.

i will choose to chase you—
not to make you love me,
but so that you can find me
on your own time, i’ll  always
wait for you to find me. always.

Skinny, papery, wrinkled, and pale
Running a rosary through her fingers
The air shimmers, balmy ocean waves that never cease
From the shaded marble step, I ask:
“Why do you suffer rituals out in the scorching sun?”
“My child, that’s how it’s always been done.”