Category Archives: Liturgical

Lent 2019

His love’s a blade this time of year.

Bright as the vernal equinox

Cold as the rain that ends the snow

Hard as the howling Lenten wind.

 

He made that blade to break my heart

To cut a furrow deep and straight

Beneath the salt and cigarettes

Into the darkness where I sleep.

 

To find and lay beneath the sun

All that which I have hidden there

All the buried coins and corpses

Secrets scattered to the seagulls.

 

Here his love comes, belching diesel

To till the fields of no-man’s-land

Pouring into my ripped-up heart

Seeds by the hundred million.


It’s Human

It’s human to be tired

It’s human to be cold

It’s human to be lonely

It’s human to get old.

 

It’s human to be losing

It’s human to get lost

And it’s human not to have

What being human costs.

 

It’s human to need saving

It’s human to be saved

It’s human to be carried

From the cradle to the grave.

 

It’s human to be dying

It’s human to be raised

It is human not to be

Who is worthy to be praised.


Thanksgiving 2018

For the shape that things have taken
For the bending of our days
From the place we were forsaken
To the place our heads are laid

For what all the ravens brought
For the bread that wouldn’t last
For the water from the rock
For the wandering that’s passed

For the scroll that tasted sweet
Then turned to sour halfway down
For how we are made complete
By being buried, burnt, or drowned

For a tale we couldn’t write
The verse we can’t compose
For a love we couldn’t fight
For however this thing goes,

We give you thanks, oh Lord.


Act Of God

Come quickly Lord

To kick the doors

Out of my locked

And alarmed heart.

 

Break the windows,

Weather-sealed, and

Let your winds and

Rains awake me.

 

Let your lightnings

Terrify, though

You are God of

More than thunder.

 

Call your children

Through the doors and

Empty hallways

Of my vacancy.

 

Fill every room

Beds with weary

Tables with starved

Silence with song.

 

All buildings burn

Down in the end.

Let my ruins

Be a temple.


Seed-Hymn

Lay me down beneath the earth,

And I won’t care if I’m buried

Or sown,

So long as your hands hold the shovel.

 

Pour the rain down on me,

And I won’t care if I’m baptized

Or drowned,

So long as your hands hold me under.

 

Cut me down when harvest comes,

Be it for the burning

Or the barn,

So long as your hands gather me.


December Turns To January

The winter sings a song

Called There Is Not Enough.

 

Not enough propane in the tank

Not enough sunlight in the hours

Not enough numbers in the bank

Not enough mercy in the powers

 

Sing to me the silence

Called What Is Then Required?

 

Only a laying down to die

Only a raising from the dead

Only a mouthful of the wine

Only a mouthful of the bread.


Time’s Soon Up For Time

It’s the dark of the year but it won’t last

A difficult season but soon to pass

A shitty year but the years run fast

And time’s soon up for time.

 

They’re at a hard age but soon they’ll be grown

And the nest sure is quiet after they’ve flown

The harvest can’t come till the seeds are sown

That can’t live till they die.

 

The kingdom is coming but the kingdom is here

My battle’s been won but my enemy’s near

So much to be killed by but nothing to fear

“Rest” says the mountain, “But climb.”

 

Living is hard but soon you can sleep

Tread for a while, then commit to the deep

All that is mortal and all you can’t keep

Cause time’s soon up for time.