Happy Hour

As free bread in a restaurant
we take the host as appetizer:
a foretaste of the kingdom 
coming on a covered-tray,
for you will not know at
what hour the entree comes.

So taste and see
that the Lord is good--
like shortbread dipped
into the wine.

Whosoever Eateth That Which is Leavened, Even That Soul Shall Be Cut Off

The apostle said,
"In Jesus' bread
no leaven-Greek
nor Jewish-yeast."

But, Lord my God, we take
Your recipe and bake
ideologic loaves
we've wrapped in shepherd's clothes:
     gender, age,
     and vocation,
     party line,
     denomination.

So take and eat this body broken--
scattered flock as shepherd's spoken.

There Was a Certain Creditor Which Had Two Debtors

Lord, I'll sin for You
as though I were a Magdalene,
and when they cast me
as a stone before your feet,
o Lord, I'll anoint You with
repentant tears: that perfume
I couldn't muster.

Write my forgiveness
in the sand, o Lord--
salvation in Your palms.
Forgive me much,
I'll love you much
(until I sin again)

He Which Testifieth These Things Saith, Surely I Come Quickly

The silver cord was severed
and the golden bowl was broken,
pouring plagues of hail
and slag and ash
into the skies over our Babylon.

"It is done," the loud voice called
in thund'ring tone as trumpets
sounded tucket for the iron-clad
Jerusalem descending from the sky:

streets of gold as though it were
transparent glass, with cobblestone
and trolley-track showing through.

And he showed me three pure
rivers of water of life.

I heard the voice from heaven say,
"Behold the tabernacle of God is with men,
and He will dwell with them--
and everything is meaningless."

Bubbles for Emma; or, the Kingdom of God Belongs to Such as These

I taught you how to blow
as though barely breathing,
your quiet prayer of breath
inspiring shape and motion
upon the face of soapy water.

The light bent through
those haloed bubbles, as though
they had been stained
like the windowed sanctuary
where we blew our praise.

Your innocence and wonder
are like those bubbles:
delicate,
fleeting, and,
as you would say
with all your child-like faith,
beautiful--your voice
full of excitement like the time
you told me I was in the Bible.

This Hurts me More Than It Hurts You

Busily she bumbles
seeking necessary nectar
for lengthening her life
and bolstering her sisters.

A knight with no such armor
serving queen without a scepter
makes a grail of liquid gold
of a merit beyond measure.

Creeping skyward through creation,
lilting lullabies and letters;
alarmed she pricks my paw,
for I tried to feel her feathers.

As a Shepherd Divideth His Sheep from the Goats

Bird-bathe the world in fire, Lord;
     pluck goats like scattered seed.
Tuck sheep beneath your wings, O Lord,
     and light with heav'nly speed.

Why Beholdest Thou the Mote That Is in Thy Brother's Eye, But Considerest Not the Beam That Is in Thine Own Eye

Read your neighbor like a fun-house mirror:
     their skinny sins shown in the glass.
You've a log to match the speck seen there--
     your own sins worn like a fat ass.

The Kingdoms of This World Are Become the Kingdoms of Our Lord

The sound of birdsong signals through the sash
     like tucket sounding for returning spring.
So also through the coming kingdom's ash
     the trumpet's calling for returning king.

Eli, Eli

My God
(my God!)
we prayed for him,
grandfather with the failing heart,
but I wasn't there to lay my hands
(I couldn't bear to see him sleeping)

My God!
He would have took my hand
with grip so strong
it tied the knots
inside my stomach.
My God,
my seed-faith ground to
mustard against mountainside--
putrid, pungent
(spreading thin)

O Sing unto the Lord a New Song; or, the Marks of the True Church

Sing your psalms like shibboleth--
     like lines drawn in the stand.
Stave off sin and error;
     measure doctrine, measure man.

Behold, I Create New Heavens and a New Earth and the Former Shall Not Be Remembered

Let there be light-source! Lord,
You called into the room
and hung the sun, the moon, the stars
like lamps within Your studio.

You stretched out heav'n and earth
like canvas o'er the void
and painted sky, the land, the sea with
the-Spirit-moved-upon-the-water-color.

What demi-urge could hope
(though many violent vandals try)
to help You usher in your forms--
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done?

So come to bleach the canvas, Lord,
and blot out all that's egg-shell-temporary.
Repaint and frame new heav'n and earth
to hang within Your gallery.