i place all of my black-mouthed sins before You, Lord,

waiting, for Your ecstatic forgiveness.

Your clean-lit fluency,
the eagerness of


” In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of trespasses, according to the riches of His grace…”

Ephesians 1:7



wound in content,
balmed in just-a-little-longer-now

ignoring trouble
withstanding disappointment,
though potent, present and strong-

with the glaring-bright, delicious-ringing reality
that one day,
my day-lit soul will itself go careening
up the spiced climes of Your blood-bought Paradise.

it is enough Lord,


10 And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. ~ 1 Peter 5:10

A Prayer


reach down,
and take

what i have offered, Savior of mine,
times without number,
into Your same hands.

yes, for You are my Savior,
and not another,
my own, suited in infinite love,

to my need.

the answering balm for every windblown weariness,
rehearsed and draggled and tired,
the depth of which, only Your eyes can see.

these days, crowded with endless strugglings
which appear as nothing to the outside eye.

invisible strivings,
cares whining and soft, coming in droves, tolling to fill up every day.

and take in hand
these things that You were earth-born to see.

for to who else shall i go?
Who could be earth-hurled and forgotten and laid down as You?

Who else like Yourself,
has been tired and worn,
sacrificed and offered up,
even acquainted with grief
for my sake?

who else could take what i give to You now,
and weave an unfading crown?

and receive, petitions worn with asking,
rising with each morning’s need.

let Your manger-born tenderness,
assuage the worried ruin,
that lies along the banks of all the silent, sun-bleached days
that i see.

dear Jesus,
My own Savior.

how long have i rested in Your hands,
to know,
that You do not break the splintered reed,
You take trouble, and make it into glory.

bending low, in tender infinitude
You do not quench,
the smoldering wick of this heart.

Good Lord,
rise and do,
what You have always done for me.

in my struggling, beget peace,
for my futility, exchange timeless meaning.
visit me,
outlining  purpose,
with Your raised, speaking hands.

let heartbreak and dross,
burn like blazoned jewels,
in Your furnace where You fire and meld,
the crowns of saints, waiting- unseen.

promise me,
with Your lobed whisper,
curled like pearl,
that i struggle, and strive and live
according to plan.

measuring and flawless,
You watch,
You calculate, You speak, You lead, You draw,
the unfolding, perfect lines of Your purpose
and You are not afraid.


“Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save.” ~ Isaiah 46:4


in the bee-loud glade,
of our separateness
set apart and aestival
divinely aloof, trembling with gentling grief,
bounding in chrysolite joys
and yet commiserating with all,

we gambol together
You and i,
rolling in an eternity of changelessness,
un-guessed and boundless as the sea.

two withes of loving know,
in and out of time
we go,
panning in endless days.

And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever. ~ 1 John 2:17


will my crowning be glorious?
wrestling into the fold of that last dawn,
will You be glad dearest Lord, when You turn to look,
and see the travail of Your soul?

when i stand before You,
with a wild, bametass shout,
wreathed in blood and laurels and glory
what is it You will see?

yes, for there is glory in blood,
and there is beauty, in extremity.

and there is a way, to name one’s self with You,
the Warrior from Eternity
and be glad,
to live as one acquainted with the wars.

weeping the wide-open tears,
of those who overcome,
blessing You,
for Your streaming, raked nakedness.
Your nailed through resistance and surrender,
withstanding with broken hearted strength
the limitless wrath of God,
more throwingly vast,
than the eternity of the whole world.

remade, i take my nature from You,
Redeemer and Sacrifice and Champion,
bloodstained pleasure of the Father,
i fight the battles you tell me to,
fired, annealed, drawn-through,
with the iron that did enter Your own soul.

bought and sired in Your deepest extremity,
born by battle, won in travail,
impossible, outright Savior,
Whom i will follow after, taming the steeds of eternity,
swept in Your white overcoming train,
all of that company,
the bloody advance of Your own soul.

i do stand, with my destiny in my hand,
and hurl the white stone, that bears my ineffable, sonship name,
into the ringing arc, of Our victorious eternity.

soldered against this world
made out of stronger stuff than dust and time,
unamazed, and unafraid,
i will rise over the crest of eternity,
spouting aurora, ecstatic as the sun,
crying tears that have no grief,
for i am battle-born.

“To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with Me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.”  ~ Revelation 3:21

That Day

will we at last step into that blinding daylight?
coming up,
over the crest of all things,
clambering in full run,
into the brace of that well-lit day?

where the sunset will finally be ours,
as we come together fully,
like swaths of glory in the sky.

at times, it seems so long.

but for now, it is enough,
to slip silent,
into the cloistered quiet,
of our green chapel,

You and i

and whisper together,
about the coming of
That Day.


“Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.” ~ 1 Thessalonians 4:17


with heaving ribs
and slowing breath,
like a storm weary bird, and two tired wings beating,
let me press my prodigal face,
into Your wide, snow-quiet breast.



“Who would have thought my shrivel’d heart
Could have recovered greennesse?”

“greennesse”, silently leaps
along the withe,
of all my days,
returning crisp, this morning,

creeping constant,
even along the wind-drift seasons, dyed deep with picasso blue.

i turn my head to listen
with inward eyes,
and with my drawing breath, push out a dazzling light,
glowing along the cusp
of a learning-to behold-and-to-believe
trembling heart.

grows, and startles
how can it be ever new?
browned in the depths of my only hell,
(for because of Your misery, Lord, this is the only hell i will ever know)

brining, seeping, pondering,
climbing, clambering again,
a thinking, real, stintless green,
that shows it’s face, always ready to begin,
with a purity that makes me marvel,
truly startled,

for living hearts, have a way of living still
and the pheonix rises many times, before finally joining the Sun.

maybe it is, just as Your poet said-
“killing and quickning, bringing down to hell
and up to heaven in an hour” 


O’ God,
my God of living-through and living-again,
with riven, wise growing, eyes,
i see and recall
Your faithful footprints, all through
my deepest, earth-bound hell.

but also, Savior,
i tell of,
Your nearness, coming close, and pressing near
unabashedly believing
in Your power to save.
You layYour heart to mine
speaking the words, Your Words
that raise canticles,
of growing things,
such trellised vines,
of praise.

a tangle of living, acknowledging,
coming new and constant,
from the time of my birth
until today.

i draw in my breath,
and curl small,
to listen

pressed against You
by ring

the sap, and the growing
of Your marvelous, sufficient grace
always enough, even through droughts and fires
and whatever may be
presented under the guise-
the endless night and morning succession of:

O’ my Youth, my Eternal Delight,
O’ my Greennesse,
i thank You
for a life that is hidden, and a life that is green,

rushless and inviolate, kept in realms of heaven,
in which we will glory, and over which we will resound
through the coming eternity,

for Your garrish aliveness,
that visited me
and would not let me go.
carrying me through,
all the “today’s” You had written,
when as yet there were none.


For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
~ Colossions 3:3

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?
~ Romans 8:31

*Quotes taken from The Flower by George Herbert (1633)


tired and bedraggled, from running my own way,
bewildered, proven wrong,
standing still….

until i hear Your song for me,
a song full of endless new beginnings.
as You hold in Your hand,
the opportunity,
for Always, and Again.

i flee,
from the staring grimace of this world,
away from disappointment, away from loss,
into the rampart,
of Your outstretched arms.

hold me close,
all a-shimmer, beginning again,
a withe of redeemed possibility
in the sparkling, gracious embrace
of Your righteousness.


Today’s Redemption

i give the palsied reach-

the worthless ambitions of this morning,

to You.

and i do so,
with a shout-

for indeed Lord,

You, take it all up,
Your hands, fragrant
with the quiet

and i wrinkle, inwardly,
with joy,
as i watch the gracious,
of Your finger tips

each one
– ruddy,
with today’s redemption.