I am a shattered pot, chards of clay. I am a tattered knot, threads of fray.

As I play out his tragedy, I doubt that you're into me. For how could such majesty, seek out mortal intimacy?

Let us go for a walk in the garden. Let us be as we're meant to be.

From nowhere waves washed in today. Consumed me, wet rags and disarray...

Dejected to perfected—a spectrum I’ve elected.

Weary, I schlep this weight and regret my fate. Teary, I wept so late, so inept my state

Maybe I should have some acres, to be like the mammon makers...

Lining up life so all things go well, declining all strife to remain in the shell...So's the plan of all-time happy man.

A Memorial Day poem

Cacophony upon me, a rancor room sans softening, deafening doom soon offering, if only tuned toward scoff we be...

Around my home in an arid land with tamarisk trees and steaming sand, my father built a fence.

I've painted you a picture, a mural complicated...

Embarking on a great ascent to meet you in the high place...

A reflection on John 20: 19-22

Violence you mask as fetish, narcissistic deeds you relish...

A boy, the apple of his Maker's eye...

There's a plan for me, dramatic destiny, of whose eyes do see, isn't clear to me...

Thinking back on what transpired, so much more was once desired...

Three men stood upon the shore, pondering their being, gazing at the vast beyond, groping after meaning...

End, how frightfully fast its coming...

The deepest darkness, the deepest separation, the deepest Hell, Christ knew on that day.

Sitting 'round the table, captivated by the fable, getting wrapped up in the cycle...