i squint at the white computer screen,
lay down a pale blue background
easy on the eyes.
my friend’s cancer has come back.
his cancer has come back.
to get reports
i sign up for facebook.
my inbox fills up with messages from friends
confirming me a friend.

two years ago before Jerry May died
(i didn’t know)
he said Taoist-like: anymore
in his individual life
he couldn’t tell for sure
a good thing from a bad thing.
cancer brought him closer to God
and to his family.
the chemo that did away
with his cancer damaged his heart.
so, waiting for a transplant,
he wrote about the dark night,
a gentle time when lovers meet.
he couldn’t tell for sure
a good thing from a bad thing
anymore.

Dietrich the nazis strangled with a wire
for spoking the third reich wheel
april 9. may 8 germany surrendered.
now, Dietrich, can you tell a good thing
from a bad thing?
now are there no bad things?
at golgotha God spoked death.

Taoists say anymore
they can’t tell a bad thing
from a good thing.
I can, still.

like a billiardball a greenball my tv screensaver
bounces off the edges of the screen.
the clocks keep ticking their duet.
God, if only you could save life
as easily as a tv screen.
4:25 a.m.

“Every form of refuge has its price”
—Lyin’ Eyes, Eagles

Your copay today is $50.
On a scale of 0-10—
0, being no pain;
10, being the worst pain you can imagine—
what number is your pain now?
You have to fit
into a box on a form.
Is your pain (check one)
burning, aching, throbbing, or piercing?
Chronic or acute?
At what time of day does it hurt?
Under what conditions (such as stormy weather)?
Does your pain ever break through
(persist after you take medication)?
On the diagram of the body
mark where you hurt,
using arrows for sharp pain,
shading for dull pain.

Take two extra-strength Tylenol
and don’t complain.
Nobody wants a patient who isn’t.

Your copay today is $50.
Tell me about your fear.
Makes it hard for you to sleep at night…
I understand your anxiety and pain.
My goal is for us to establish
a good working relationship
in a secure holding environment,
to comfort,
to help you become a more sturdy ego,
independent
in spite of your DSM IV diagnosis.
You have every chance
of living a healthy, well-adjusted life.

Just don’t expect a counselor
to solve all your problems.
See you next week.

Hello, my name is John. I am a human being.
—Hi, John!
—How are you?
—Good to see ya!
I’ve been coming to meetings for months now.
They really help, you care,
I’m working the program:
Serenity,
Courage,
Wisdom.
I miss Michael, guess we all do,
it’s so hard to watch somebody crash and burn, but:
Shit happens.
Easy does it.
One day at a time.

Beat and alone, when the dark casts no shadows,
all the tears that run down into our mouth
taste of salt.

Okay, okay! Love—
one human being for another,
all human beings for all others—
love transforms each of the above.
I saw them in their darkest, most broken form,
loveleast,
what insurance pays for
and courts mandate.
The DSM IV doesn’t have a code for love—
one human being for another,
all human beings for all others—
and I will show you a more excellent Love:

Beyond the sheltering sky,
(beneath it, too)
I AM
always with you
bearing your pain with you,
I AM
freeing you from the prison
of your ego and your angst
(though I AM not promising
you’ll never be afraid,
just that you’ll never ultimately need to be),
I AM
tasting the salt of your tears,
making you whole.

Your copay is your life,
all you have, all you are, all you ever will be—
The gift you get in return

I AM.

God never gives, nor did he ever give a gift, merely that [humanity] might have it and be content with it. No, all gifts which he ever gave in heaven or on earth, he gave with one sole purpose—to make one single gift: himself. With all his gifts he desires only to prepare us for the one gift, which is himself.

—Meister Eckhart (1260-1328), quoted in Sölle, The Silent Cry, p. 21.

I can tell, having read
the Introducton, the Afterword,
and a few pages of chapter 1,
that Sölle’s major work is going to be a joy.
She begins with an effort to strip mysticism
of its aura of the exclusive.
Mysticism is not for the elite few,
but for the many, for us all.
Mysticism, put simply, is
everyday Oneness with God
that the scientific mindset,
following the Enlightenment,
seeks to strip away.

No, you don’t need to be an adept
of some esoteric eastern cult,
or a psycho-spiritually gifted genius,
to walk with God.

You simply must open your heart,
open your eyes, 
to know that God is with you,
in you, outside of you,
above you, beneath you,
ahead of you, behind you,
beside you, beyond you,
in your past, in your future, and with you now.

Christ is the Man of Galilee,
who grew up there in a peasant’s home,
who learned the carpenter’s trade
from Joseph his earthly father,
who entrusted his mother
and her children his siblings
to God’s providential care,
and set out to be
an itinerant preacher-teacher-healer,
who brought wholeness and holiness,
freedom and justice,
self-acceptance and beloved community,

who challenged the principalities and powers,
the spiritual wickedness in high places
so that they nailed him to a cross
and hid his corpse in a tomb,
hoping to be rid of him;
but who spent Friday night and Saturday
in darkness,
and Sunday was raised
by the Easter power of God
which is ours
that we may leave
the I-centered zombie life behind
and walk with him in newness of life,

and one with all those
whose names are written
in the Lamb’s book of life
be raised and gathered before the throne
of God’s everlasting splendour,
where with all the saints and angels
we will forever sing,

“Holy! Holy!Holy!
Blessing and glory and wisdom and might
and power and beauty and truth
be yours,
Most High, Most lovely God,
forever and ever!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Amen!”

Thanks be to God who gives us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ!

Across the Silent Seas

Sand between their feet
The water on their toes
The Sun Blazing hot
The Palm Trees grow

The gentle breeze
Across the silent seas
Four foot prints on the shore
This place would be called home
And neither would like more

Rise and Fall (Day and Night)

When the sun  rises,
So do the rest,
From their needed slumber,
Their comforting rest.

The Light from the sun
Shines through the trees
Casting shadows on the ground
From branches and leaves

When darkness comes
the rest follow
The Suns light
The night swallows

When light is dim
And nearly out of sight
They all sleep
In the eternal night

“The Woman having a cataract removed?

Doctor, I’ve loved her, forty years I’ve loved—

her eyes. Notice how they sparkle, like

light on water? How they dance about:

beauty and dragonflies? Or, silent, how

they welcome you, invite you in, begin

a water dance with dragonflies of you,

offer safe warmth home?

You see how her beholding is no ques-

tions asked, no traps, no locks?—just grace for grace.

Another sees, perceives, beholds Truth

with a Mother’s love, like she does, One

who is love, who teaches you to, see-

ing, love, being, love, that cataracts,

downpours over steeps, in surgeon’s hands,

in your surgeon’s hands become light.”

Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
     bless his holy name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
     and do not forget all his benefits.

today, Lord, praising you takes

pesticiding weeds

complaints grudges aches and pains hypodermic memories

today, Lord, praising you takes

flushing who’s-gonna-stop-me sins

and years-old-used-to-be-greenish-stinking-up-the-fridge sins

today, Lord, praising you takes

warp driving out of black holes

at the heart of my galaxy

today, Lord, praising you takes

speaking in an unknown tongue of joy

acting like you crown me

 yes! you included me, yeah! you included me; oh Lord, when you said “whosoever,” you included me!

crown us every one with steadfast love and mercy

you  satisfy us with good as long as we live

and flame-moulten phoenixes take flight new-fledged

imprisoned in a crippled body

(persuaded muscles matter most)

envying the berserker his might,

had I only one wish of the Almighty,

it would be for one day more with you

struggling in a sinner’s soul

(more self unforgiving than forgiven)

longing to be holy for real,

had I only one prayer of the Holy One,

it would be to be more holy like you

living in a rebel’s heart

(more often hidden or imagined than real)

wandering outside the camp,

could I change one thing about myself,

it would be to be a friend more often like you

but heart, soul, and body are my own

(gifts from God I seldom comprehend),

my life is what it is, come what may,

and all it is, because of you, is better,

and all it is is yours.