September 30, 2013



(Another day I almost died)

Thank God for every single breath,
a sliver's slice, twixt life and death.
A fulcrum pin that holds at bay,
Paper thin this precious day.
A mirror's width and single glance,
Shallow scratch sans happenstance.

"This is your's", I declare.
Never before so awe-aware.

 Each light lung-full anther gift.
 As clay ribs draw and lift.

 Alive, I inhale, again.


September 13, 2013



(To the lost of Maaloula)

Awe as in awful, awe (full) with pure fear.
Pouring in oceans, drowning the dear.
Buildings like waxworks, kissed by the Sun. 
Ashen dust drawing deep into lungs.
Cut down cross fire, from every side.
Here in the half light, where half-truths abide.
Assure your firm foreknown, reveal your troth Bride.
Peal back broken instinct of paper thin (now).
Make present your Kingdom, with gleaming gold prow.
Faint and failing this moment of pain.
Folded deeper and richer, made more than the same.
Truer sure founded, roots as living stone.
Known in the marrow quick blood and white bone.
There is a shore, a new place to call home.

2 Cor 4:17

September 3, 2013

Reynard & Vixen

(a fox love poem)

There in the heather, down near the fen,
Where thistles wile whimsy, and ferns all attend.
Low in the bracken, bramble and brush,
Flowers sing sonnets to the Sun's bashful blush.
Here in the briar as raindrops still fall,
Spring beckons its May morning call.
Troth in affection, both red and white,
Foxes in love, to dawning day light.