HEALING IN EIGHTS:
Early 1992
New beginnings as figured in a dream.
A...
A CERTAIN GLORY EXISTS IN ALL THAT IS
ALTURNATIVES
ANOTHER MESSAGE TO POETS:
LET THE POETRY FLOW OUT OF GOD
A POET WISHES FOR HIS VOICE
A SHORT CELEBRATION CONCERNING POETIC FARMERS
A SIMPLE SONG
A TABERNACLE PERSON
A THEOLOGY OF BLESSING
B...
BECAUSE GOD'S JOY WEEPS TO SAVE US
BELOW THE LAND OF THE SHADOWLESS LORD
BUT HE WHO SEEKS THE GLORY
OF HIM WHO SENT HIM IS TRUE
BEYOND PLURALISMS
(A comment also upon Hebrews 11:3)
C...
CHRIST'S BRIDE AT A SLANT
F...
FIRST, DEATH OF THE SIN NATURE
FROM LUKE 14
G....
GOOD MORNING MR. SUN
GREGORIAN CHANTS
H...
HALF FOOTED AND DANCING LIKE GOD'S FOOL
HAS ANY SEEN OLD HEPBURN DIE?
HEALING IN EIGHTS
HEAVEN'S JOY IN AN EARTHLY PLACE
HOT AND COLD
HOW PRAISE SPRINGS UP FROM A DULL HUMAN HEART
I...
I MUST FIND THE SINGING VOICE
INNOCENCE RESTORED
IN RESPONSE TO KIERKEGAARD
I REALLY DON'T REQUIRE MUCH
IT IS GOD WHO GIVES US OUR OPEN ENDED IDENTITY
L...
LET MY MIND
BECOME SWEET FLAME
LOSING FEAR
M...
MEDITATION FROM AN OLD SONG
NÉ
NEW CREATION DOOR
O...
ON BEING
ON THE LAW OF LIFE
P...
POETRY IS ABOUT THE CORE-LIFE OF MAN
PRAYER AND READINGS
S...
SIDETRACKED
SOMEBODY WAS CONFUSED
SOMETHING ALONG THE LINE OF WHAT EPICURUS MIGHT
HAVE SAID IN THE 3RD CENTURY B.C.
SUN CHILDREN, MOON CHILDREN
T....
THE NEARNESS OF GOD
THERE ARE SEASONS WHEN WE SUFFER THE WORM
THERE IS A FRAGRANT INTEGRATION
THE SEVEN SAILING SPIRITS STAND
THE WORD SPOKE LIGHT
TIME CAN DREAM OF A BIRD
TO A HOLY DREAM OF THE WAY THINGS SHOULD BE
TO GOD'S HEALERS
TO GOD'S SCRIBES
TO WM. BLAKE, HOPKINS AND YEATS
TURNING THE COMMON BACK UPON ITS REASON
U...
UNDER THE WINGS
UPON A BRIGHT RIGHTEOUSNESS SHINING IN GOD
UPON A FRANKENSENCE MIND
UPON THE AGE-ENDURING MISSION OF THE POET
UPON THE ARBITRATION OF THE STONE
UPON THE MOUNT OF TRANSFIGURATION
UPON THE SENSES OF THE HEART
UPON THE SINGING SILENCE
W...
WE LIVE AND MOVE AND HAVE
OUR BEING...
WE SHOULD DWELL WITH OUR DREAMS
WHILE WE ARE LOST IN CLUTTERED LANDS
WORDS THROUGH THE POROUS WALL
Last Poem in file: ON THE LAW OF LIFE
THE POEMS
HEALING IN EIGHTS
(From a dream)
I'm healing in eights!
The cards are dealt
by a mysterious hand.
20 eights
and a small steel eight,
with a little metal clover club
on a thin stand.
GOOD MORNING MR. SUN
Good morning Mr. Sun:
you who shine joyfully each morning
to awaken the birds and rabbits in the fields;
you who make the deer start their browsing.
God has made you Mr. Sun:
He who is so great
as to sustain you with the power of His choosingÑ
choosing you to be like Him,
beaming light and warming creation.
Good morning brother and sister birds,
who greet Mr. Sun and all the world with song;
who cleave the air of mountain places with your wings
and bustle together busily in the tops of trees.
It is God who made you
to delight the heart of man with the day's songs
and show God's children
the way of pure thought and imagination.
Good morning my companions the trees,,
great growing green fingers which point towards
the sky and its light:
unspeaking speakers of truth, purifiers of air,
home to flyers and leapers and spinners.
God
has made you, my silent, slow friends,
choosing to make you like HimselfÑ
our quiet purifier, our patient God:
He who is home to the flyers of prayer,
the leapers of faith,
the spinners of poems, stories and songs.
TO WM. BLAKE, HOPKINS AND YEATS
There is a singing life!
The curious wonder of the trees
silently sings out mysteries.
Through weaving branches and twisted bark
they sing their light amidst the dark.
If modern man should cut them down
their music pulsates on the ground.
If man should mill them by the foot
within is hidden yet, the flute.
For though sweet singers cease to sing,
poetry still floods everything.
THE SEVEN SAILING SPIRITS STAND
Seven sailing spirits stand
around the innocence of God's lamb,
and each one issues from his head
like
horns of light, or words He's said.
Like trumpets of flame they brandish and blare
beautiful music about in the air.
Such beautiful music comprises their cloaks,
that they're sheathed in glory from foot to throat
and hover above near the roof of the world...
To tuck under their cloaks, a soul is hurled
up from its rootsÑonce bound in the groundÑ
with a pull and the tear of a terrible sound.
And then those souls cry, "We're woven of sky,
so love's beautiful music can brilliantly fly
out and along the whirlwind of time
in paintings, or song, or spiritual rhyme:
for
this is Christ's Kingdom, creative and good,
filled with the fires of God's fixed mood!
So let us flyÑit is best!Ñto that hand
where the seven sailing spirits stand,
that we might stream from God's own head
like horns of light or words He's said.
UNDER THE WINGS
I tuck up under the wings of God
like a little bird of thought and prayer,
too
weak to keep myself warm.
Under the feathered breast of white holiness
lies the little bird of my soul:
under the heat,
hearing the slow heartbeat;
feeling the wild
power;
brooding for a silent hour.
WE SHOULD DWELL WITH OUR DREAMS
We should dwell with our dreams
which were clear visions as children,
when the world was new
and secret gates and burrows
were always found...
and starlight was the path
to paradise,
and a common stick
could become Excalibur;
when wax-encased sugar-water
exploded color in your mouth
and snowfall was white magic
and ecstasy;
when every tree was a ladder
from earth to a sky that was all
essences of gold and blue;
when clouds were soft messages
and big people were gods;
when every child was awe
and adventure, and royalty.
*
If we are to be blessed
we must find our first dreams
(past the weariness),
in the mystical movements
of emerging rest.
SUN CHILDREN, MOON CHILDREN
There are children of the day
and children of the night:
sun children and moon children.
And there are children
of the cycles of day and night:
sun and moonÑendless blue
and stars in the deep dark.
In these children, the glories
of sunrise and sunset
paint their most beautiful colors.
UPON THE ARBITRATION OF THE STONE
Moses
and a Druid priest
had carved my stains in stone;
sacrifice of beast or fowl
could not my sin atone,
till to that rock the Savior came,
inscribing
it with holy name.
He brushed it with His spotless cloak:
the stone first quavered, fell and broke.
Jesus shouted, "I atone!"
Then I