FREE AND GROWING GREENER
by Blake Steele
Starting mid Oct. 1991
INDEX:
A...
ABOUT GRACE
ABOUT A CERTAIN PARABLE
ABOUT THE BLUE BREAKFAST BOWL OF THE MORNING SKY
A FEATHERED METAPHOR
AH!
AN ENCOUNTER WITH GOD IS A SEED
A SHORT LETTER TO THE FUTURE
B....
BECOMING AMBER
BOOKS
D....
DREAM
E....
ESSENCES
F....
FROM PROLOGUE TO LET US GO A GIFTING
H....
HE SHE AND WE
I...
I HAVE A RED HAIRED DAUGHTER
I HEARD EVERY HOPE SINGING
IT IS GOD I LOVE, POURING THROUGH OPENING THINGS
IT IS MY HEART'S DESIRE
I WROTE UP THE SCRAPPING OF BOTTOM OF THE SKY
L....
LIGHTS UPON THE MOUNTAINS OF A THOUSAND YEARS
M....
MANY THERE BE WHO SEEK POWER...
MISS JEAN
O....
ON A FIVE MINUTE BREAK FROM HANGING WALLPAPER
ON CHRISTMAS EVE - 1991
(For Hal Gillespie)
ON CONFIRMATION
ON THE DEATH OF AN ANGRY GOD
ON THE SACK OF A SOUL
P...
POETRY IS THAT FLOWING THING
PRAYER CAN ALSO BE
R....
REPENTANCE
AGAIN AFTER ANGER ALMOST BLEW UP MY
MIND
S....
SHE IS A GRACIOUS LADY
SHE, ROSY DANCES INTO THE DAWN
T...
THE KINGDOM FORTASTED
THE TIME HAS COME FOR A HOLY REVOLUTION
THIS IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT
TO SOME WOMAN IN THE DISTANT FUTURE
TO YOU WHO READ THIS BOOK IN FUTURE AGES
U...
UNTIL BEAUTY DROPS INTO THE SHAPE OF SOULS
W....
WATER AND FIRE
WHEN EVERY OCCASION IS SUBLIME
WHEN SKY BORN THOUGHTS COME DOWN
WISDOM PLAYS
LAST POEM...ON CHRISTMAS EVE - 1991
(For Hal Gillespie)
ÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑ
POETRY IS THAT FLOWING THING
Poetry is that flowing thing
underneath:
down where the real hurts lie,
down with the intimate joys.
It comes as a flash,
a
glimmer of something huge
that makes you feel
like you really could
take your hand
and spread stars
out across the sky
in a gleaming trailÑ
the tails of the stars
streaming back
over the shadows of the moon.
It sounds kind of hokey,
you
must admit it,
in this scientific age
when we understand everythingÑ
except the human heart...
BOOKS
Books.
Books.
Beautiful books.
Songs of the human heart.
Songs of the soul.
Songs of spirit and life!
Books!
Illustrated books.
Books of beauty silently working
in the intimate night:
joined one to oneÑ
the book to the heart;
going out into the world
bearing their own life.
Sparks of the spirit
enkindle secret oils
and fill eyes with light.
Tools
in God's hands:
healing, building, relieving, releasing,
making souls courageous
to be gentle
and beautifulÑwithout masks!
Books:
my work.
Books: my dreams.
Books: my heritage.
Books: my legacy.
Books.
REPENTANCE AGAIN AFTER ANGER
ALMOST BLEW UP MY MIND
Holy Father
whose hand passes before my eyes
to bring a certain luminescence
to the eyes which have long
gazed upon the moon
and its shadows,
take some lamb's blood
in your golden cup
and wash with huge red swaths
the pages
of that open book in your hand
wherein is imprinted that evil
witched me into uttering vile things
and curses against your name.
And upon those wet, red pages
write thisÑ"I have loved you
with the love you have given me
to love you by!"
Oh, let your name roll out of heaven
upon me in a sudden fall of fire
that burns through me
till my name and your name are one
in complete forgiveness, Father!
THIS IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT
This is not entertainment.
Some poets, I imagine,
are entertainers.
I have been a clown:
Only
a clown or an insane man
would take off his masks
and pour his vulnerable soul out
to the people.
No, I am not a dancing bear
nor
a monkey on a string.
Some music is forged alone
and should be sung alone:
or between intimates
in love, in naked life.
If I have erred,
God help me, I hope
I have erred out of love
for the people.
TWO SONGS UNTO THE FUTURE
I. A SHORT LETTER TO THE FUTURE
What is it like
now that God has come
and flooded the world?
Is it as beautiful
as we who sojourned in many shadows
dreamt it would be?
Or has God been less than our pain
made us wish Him to be?
My heart cries no! But infinitely more!
What surprises! What unleashed joy!
What unbounded life!
What soul-birthed order! What freedom!
How great must be the communal singing
of all light-flooded creatures!
What is it like to now embody
love's growing dream,
to live in a spiritual society
of
compassionate, creative freedom?
What is it like to now use all human resources
to make a beautiful and just world?
See what faith I have!
Suddenly I wonder,
is it presumptuous of me to write to you,
blessed children of our future?
you who live in the light of a thousand suns,
a million moons,
for
I live in the shadows of one moon
and seek the warmth of one distant sun.
Yet, I beg of you, for courtesy's sake,
and for the mystery
of listening to your own past
speak,
allow me to speak over the years to you,
anxious that you forever recall
the sorrows of your father's sins
and so do not now betray
the beauty which molds you!
Take no thing for granted,
as your ancestors had grievously done!
Fight for gratitude. It is the breath of life!
Is not living together in peace
the greatest gift to be cherished?
Revere the giver of the giftedness of all being:
Adore, and be adored!