bound

passing fables down the table
like potatoes and green beans--
no one takes the last spoon full,
all eye  last roll
and cross contamination comes when spoons are shared. 

i feel so small when not allowed speech-- when not allowed answer--
when rutted in roots that mangle tangles of brainstem
and stream
from eyes to lies left from one perspective to another.

how are we real and why deal
with what we dealt when we can call one more
to bust--
to break, to bend, to push our luck till stuck
with empty pockets of worth.

smile blankly, love like blankets-- you are my soul
and know little
of my mind.

thee hated of me

which is greater-- to love despite dislike
despite despise disgust mis-trust
dirty dinner dust
swept beneath carpet of our skin
dirtying our with-in
to find a rag some where
to wipe clean the lens
that allows light in;
to change perception and put down pride

or

to find one's self and surround
with those abounding in what you have found to be astounding,
grounding and giving, worth living for
and
for them?

at what measure does one stay because you're needed,
nay, presence wanted,
wanton wanting of weariness and waking starts

at what measure
does one take the toll of reprimand of self, of demand to not be what one is;
to become different, to suppress, or more so surprise oneself with what one can disguise?

but where does one find core, and betray anything below mantle boiling,
only instead to make low the mountains and fill the valleys,
smoothing edges the bump as stone tossed by sea and sand
to become a meeting place
for God-- for goddness
possibly
of humanity?

God is good,  the pastor said,
           all the time,  we reply,
all the time  he responds,
        God is Good, we move on.

here stands I
and you, and mother's daughter and sons of sisters too,
here we stand at the the point of compromise,
the place where we know not what to do.

how far removed
must we become
to become life abandoned
for life abounding.

there was man
impressed by me--
silver tongue and wit had I said he.

but spirit warned of wander ways,
i stay away and come to thee.

thee
who finds no degree of honor with me.
no feature beyond skin of which to be praised.
only once said, fallen in love with kindness,
but thus was lost when uncovered my blindness.

but love so strong of one you hate.

have I hated the one who loves me,
or loved the one who hates me?

at what point are these features opposite,

for do we not choose, and thus control,
while having no choice, and no control?

oh, stole,
stolen dear,
steal away with me
from my mind and misconceptions,
deceptions
untold
till we find ourselves as humans
forgetting all known unknown.

let us fie, fie on thee!
oh, lie, lie
you lie next to me.
but how brittle till one tongue breaks?
how brittle
till one earthen heart quakes?
and wakes instead
all nightmares hidden from

foaming forth in mass array
these truths our words cannot say
that swallow both our voice and measure
our intent, self, and one another.

 still, heart grows hardened till broken open
and i allow
cracked light to enter
caring not offenses done
caring only for arms and sun.

came that they may have life!
Life! more abundantly

I have life when i forgive thee.
do you have life?
do you ever forgive

me
for being
me?

it's nice to be praised for ability

to be know 

and seen

as something worth seeing.

but what grows us then?

when challenged not?

what forms our hearts?

if not told where to start?

you i hate who does not adore

but you i love who loves not what i fight for

may compassion and forgiveness seep;

may my mind at some point sleep

and sleep next to thee who chose me

foolishly

but loves my office,

my position

in loo of what 

I am. 

jeans

i changed again
to jeans
so they can hug me
when you won't.

i changed again
to fit
my need to hide;
to not stand out.

i changed again
to justify
my faded feeling,
washed with withdrawal

from you.


but i spoke
words
too loud
               deafening your delicate ears,
                              your delicate mask
                               your false
                                              identity.

but i've always lived
my life
          out loud--
          twirling in skirts
                                you loved
         twirling with thoughts
                               you abhorred.

i use lower case i's
to fit my thighs
inside jeans
of humility,
                 no,
                 of hiding myself
                 LOUD.

Alice, I am.

trapped
and i want out the kennel
my master
put me in.

whimpering, whining--  letting distress be known
only goads my master,
shooting sharp eyes and shouts of, "stop crying!"

glass pane door between--
cold, transparent-- I can see, but he remains out of reach
when he does not wish to sit with me.

but other times he begs, "up up!"
"Kisses!"
and gives hugs, love, play;
provides my needs even when hinders or hurts him, but--

often time
tiny hurts
throw me out

until
he decides
he needs me and wants me
back

next to him.
                       I comply.

softly selfish

i pretend
just in this moment suspended
that everything is fine.

curpusculars, warm winds,
and Ivory
of piano keys

make me believe
that every child's tum
is a full,
and round
as mine.

that the sirens of hospitals across the way
have ceased
not just for now
for how long this moment lasts

and delusion
is that it will last forever,

for forever is moment-- it exsits only in our mind,
as does this beauty,
a capturing of rays spilled from a slowly dimming star
as does these words echoing out chapped lips,
only gargled noise,
reverberations whisper to you who are far,
"I love you," as though you are near

as i believe
in my figment
in my mind
in my heart.

I will take a selfish moment
to believe that all is well.

that parents do not scream,
for sound is too soft here, in this moment
that men do not die hungry,
for it is to robust here.

but pretending fades as notes flicker out,
snuffed as delicate smoke

and moments
fade gray.

still,
clouds gleam and babes breathe.
still,
silence washes ovr'this place,
my bosom;
my heart;
my soul, if that is the phrase we wish to use.

I must keep selfish moments like these with me for times
when there is no time
for selfish moments,
no time
for hearts to be free.

i shall put it in my pocket,
as the little diddy goes,
and save it for a gloomy day.


oh, LORD,

be with me,

always.

Does God Believe
in himself?

would we
exile and detest God if he told us
"I am not a Christian
a Baptist
a Mennonite
a Methodist
baptized,
saved,
I do not pray
do not go to church on sundays.
Nor am I a Sufi,
or of Abraham's decent

no,
none of that am I."

Would we become angry,
let Down by holy one
if he told us,
"I get mad.
I wish death upon others.
become frustrated with you,
laugh with lesbians,
cry with prostitutes,
I with hold imformation
from others' ears--

I party for years
and like to collect tears."

would we exile God if he said,
"I cannot trust you,
for you fail
again and again."

would we spit in his direction if he told us,
"You are not one of great importance
or great matters;
you do not obey
and hurt
those around you."

would we call him fool and wicked if he shouted or even whispered,
" I do not agree
with what you believe
and the actions
you justify
for your selfishness that seethes."



Would we refuse to call him God if he remarked,
"But,
I love you
              anyway
for in you,
oh human,
oh man
I have invested
                      so much.
even though you
                        Hurt Me
                        Ignore Me
           and hurt Your Self

even though
                  You Project
                   You Blame
              and Make Up
                                   what you do not know

I      Still       Love You  -- I
still want to be with you,
however small a portion I am in your life,

I want to be all of it--I want you to trust me,
for I know how to keep some pain away;

I want to trust you, but find I cannot-- but I love you anyways."

What would we say to a God who works in quite action
& Fiathfulness
                    to men who seek him

what would we say to a God Like That

instead of one who calls us

Privileged

                                             oh, human
                                             oh,           Israel.

                                                                                                   perhaps we do not recognize
                                                                                                   the Image of God
                                                                                                                              in ourselves
                                                                                                                                                anymore.





Who is God's?

                  
                           

mitosis- the division of self

Divide,
Divide
         step to the side.
but exact copy
is made;
            ripping of self, division.
to think
inside
millions of you
                      are ripping apart
               yourself

to think
just now,
           millions more
           of your own flaws
           are rplicated
           reciprocated
                              and kept

can one run from self
if one divides self?
                     
peeling apart,
a copying of sorts
                          no long what was, but now, how does one decide
                          which daughter was first
                          and which to leave behind?
mitosis is...
mitosis is...
                the division of cells?
my crisis is
               the division of self.

give-ness {of self}

what i thought to be spite,
rancor glossed over features,
face varnished in my sweater

was really
pinicle forgiveness;

absorbing my offense with marrow;

owning pain his own to bone and bade-ing  sadness,
bade-ing truth fill  and come in truth of hurt,
in truth of brokness
                             and broken love.

in moment of spite,
no, everything not all right
not quite
ready to give respite of fight
till in sight is his own

heart
own self
              peeled back as skin from muscle,
               nerves vulnerable to slightest touch
           till tough varnish covers all and speaks to me,

"I Don't Like it When you hurt me.
  

does god see
                   the  restraint

as we do?
who are we protecting
when we cry
for ourselves?

pretending
                that we fear
                the loss
                           of holy.
what trust is there
                                       In God
When worry wastes
away our wishes?

                                                            you've heard it said
                                                                             care not what you wear
                                                                                          what you eat or drink
                                                             for the pagans
                                                             run after these things.
But I tell you,
run not
after yourself

at all.
                    Instead
                               you've heard it said,
                               If you have two coats, give one away
                   So,
                        I also say
                                 If you have one heart
                                 do not cling
                                                  so that it sticks to itself in a cellophane mess,
                                                   but give way.
                                                                                               
                                                                                                                        Love
                                                                                                                        is not
                                                                                                                                Honor.
there is no limit.
let limits dissolve and sweeten on your tongue as you speak not in malice
nor in self respite
but in hope and acceptance
                                         of self
                                         of other
                                         of situation
                                                           and sit a nation of conciseness
                                                           between your legs as you rise up.

god does not see resumes.