HOMEMADE STEW

My life is folly, sham and a lie

Except it dwells always

In consecrated union with You:

But what can I do

Now that it lives mostly

In lieu of that view?

Stew,

In the reverie of its sin

And rue the loss

That now leaves it alone.

2014.03.23.0400 ©

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LENT

Spring is the time

When the body and the senses

Want to lead us into life.

 

Lent is the method by which

The soul is given back control.

 

It is not necessary in the very young,

The physically ill or the old.

2014.03.23.0600 ©

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REAL SICK IMAGINATION

What do you think are the mental processes

Of the ill, the dying or the sick?

Surely, you would imagine

That they are thick with concerns

And that they cannot concentrate

Or stick with the program;

In and out of the consciousness of this life,

They cannot pick which problem to lick;

Life itself is the problem and

It is cut to the quick and about to kick itself

Into the great unknown;

Quite the trick for someone who seems to be

Out of the loop, our loop,

The hoop through which we are all jumping;

Pumping each other up until it is time

To get the thumping of our lives by an initiation

Which we cannot and will not permit ourselves

To imagine until it is real.

2014.03.23.1800 ©

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