holiday

holiday wishes are falling all around me

like little broken moonbeams

or brittle bits of starlight

playful photons dance a thin density;

to them snowflakes are like mountains.

your eyes sparkle brown and blue intensity

like gleaming coins in a silver fountain

11.22.11

burdenless

holding this stone (it symbolizes my burden, my sin)

walking,  trudging down the wide path

a mist hangs low across the way extending into the forest

concealing leaves and hiding trees.

in silence we move through the deep holes

and ruts in the road that have filled with rain water

over night and each step is harder than the one before.

and each step takes me, takes us all, one step closer

to the pit, where the fire lives and breaths and heats

the stones and the ground and the air around it.

i am convinced that the rock i am clutching

is harder, colder than the ones my brothers have

but i guess we all feel that way…

it’s too heavy for me to carry very far.

the edges are rough, sometimes sharp,

the color of it is speckled with white but

mostly dark, and too big to bury.

i have brought my Bible along…

the Holy Word of God is dangling from a black strap.

when my muscles start to rebel against the weight

of the rock, my first thought is that if i didn’t have

my Bible to carry then it would be easier to balance

my burden in my arms. the next thought makes

more sense because it comes from a better source:

that if i wasn’t holding onto my sin so tight

then it would be easier to carry my Bible…

my breath comes in ragged gasps and is visible

as steam that mixes with the smoke from the fire

until the wind takes them both and blows them higher.

ashes of gray and white like tiny fragile pieces of dreams

consumed in the little inferno fade like mementos

of what things used to be like way back when…

and when my rock, my burden, finally gets too heavy

to hold? any normal person would just let go.

but i do not. i hold it closer, closer to my center, my core,

in a vain attempt to make it more bearable because

i am strong enough, i can handle this…right?

now i have mud on my jacket,

my sin colors every surface, every line of my life.

and when i finally lay it down my hands are still covered

by mud…now everything i touch is made dirty.

so there’s another step to this process, this progress:

Jesus does not only want me to lay down my sin,

my burden, but He wants to cleanse me thoroughly

in the fire of His fervent love and the water of His grace.

and i turn my face to the cross, to the trees, to the sky,

maybe the reason why He loves me so much

will never be plain

(or even why He considers me a masterpiece)

but i welcome the grace that

falls on my skin and fills my soul

like the gentle yet steady rain.

jbh 10.29.2011

Arrows of the Enemy

The air is so thick with heat, but I think I've stopped sweating. Must be the blood loss. The sun is so bright that the only thing I can see is the occasional shaft flying up then down, between me and the sky. How long have I been kneeling in the dirt and the dust with my life spilling out in red rivers upon the cracked, swollen desert?

I shut my eyes against the light, against the sight, the sight of who I am, of where I am... So I don't see the next one until it is too late... Maybe it's already too late. I couldn't move now if I tried.

The shock of the piercing is slow to fade. This last one hits me a little to the right of my heart and as my breath comes in ragged weary wet gasps I realize that it has punctured the lung.

Was there ever any other time than this? Is this eternity?
Was there ever a different place than this? Is this judgment?

And to think that I thought I could take them on myself... what a fool.  All my pride-- all my selfish concern. what a stupid, selfish fool.

I try to smile at this absurd thought, that I was ever a match for him and his legion of fellow-fallen, but my lips are cracked and bleeding.  My burned spirit and my broken body have finally yielded to some well-earned humility. If this is giving up then I do. If this is surrender then I must.

The twang of the string sounds closer than it probably is. Maybe this is the last one, the one marked for my heart.  And I try to open my eyes and only succeed in squinting at the glare of yellow death in the sky against a backdrop of bright blue. There it is: a line of ebony with the sun glinting off the steel tip.

Just as well.

Send me back to Heaven, back to the beginning, so we can start all over. I’ll try to do better next time, try to remember what I learned…that the real meaning of life is not about finding someone nice, ending up someplace nice, it has always been about sacrifice. I get it now.  I’m ready.

As the last arrow falls, gaining speed, I bow my head. One last prayer. One last “God help me,” sent up through the thick air.

THUNK!

I don’t feel it so maybe he missed. But I heard it hit so close…

And just like that the Sun is gone.

I am in the shade of something, something tall and strong.  That same sound again, THUNK! THUD! The arrows are hitting something, just not me… through dry bruised eyes I can see the shape of a shield…The Shield. This can’t be right. I can smell dirt and sweat and… and sawdust? That’s when I see Him.

And just like that the Son is here.

Long dark hair frames the famous face, a prominent nose, the strong bearded jaw line, and the kindest eyes I think I have ever seen.  He is sitting close enough for me to touch, but I don’t dare. Not like I could anyway, my arms stopped working a while ago. Looking down I finally see myself, once a proud post-modern renaissance man, now just a pin-cushion for the arrows that each represent a different lie of the enemy.
I know He’s sweating, because His robes are soaked. It is so hot here. But I would swear He was crying. I didn’t think that was possible, but then I remember the shortest verse in the Bible. Now I can see—He’s crying for me.

A whishing sound then a hiss as arrow after arrow drives into the sand mixes with the sounds of arrows striking the shield. His shoulder bounces slightly with each blow He absorbs. Then He’s reaching back with His free hand. Can’t figure out what He’s doing.  Why would He want to touch a sinner like me?
When He touches the arrow sticking out of my left thigh I realize He’s not only here to keep me alive, but to heal my completely! The arrow vanishes when He touches it and my muscles and nerves, veins and arteries knit back together as if their circulation had never been interrupted. As quick as lightning He touches the other arrows and they vanish as well… each one a lie. An arrow through my dream catcher tattoo disappears; this was a lie of inadequacy. Not only is there no scar left behind but the skin comes back with the tattoo, vivid in color. One by one, they all evaporate like water in this dry land; this arrow is a lie of depression, that one a lie of addiction.

The last one He touches is the one closest to my heart; this arrow is a lie of doubt.  I gasp with the restored ability to breath deep.  Then fingers brush the side of my face as a calloused thumb pushes slightly below my eye, rubbing away my tears.

Just like that He is gone.

But I can feel Him in the beat of my heart, the healed body, the harmony in my spirit. I can’t help but smile at this reprieve, this peace, and I can’t seem to stop crying.

I can see so much better now. He left me The Shield. And as I look around I can see why… there must be dozens, hundreds of others in this desert. I thrust my left arm through the strap and lift it as another lie thumps into it. Not wasting any time, I move on to the second of the two great commands. Running to the nearest person I kneel next to him. I plant the shield as firmly as I can between him and the arrows still in flight while checking his wounds.

Maybe it’s not too late.

vlita

Like the swamp that holds its secrets low
under layer and layer of mystery and natural history,
killer quicksands and balance lost in bitter-smelling bogs,
the brown beaver worrying a jagged line on a log
is the hidden truth (the proof of kidnapped life),
that lies in the Cherokee word for Fog.

The still winter ground crested by a crust of ice.
From september to march chill days
are founded on a hard premise of frost.
We question our own decisions
wishing for just a ghost of a chance
for revision...am I this cold when I hide
what I am feeling beneath heavy layers of cold?

The warm air is aflame with sunlight
reflecting off the diamond drops of dew
on new green leaves, small bits of green
lost in the gray of a new-born spring day.
Am I as thick as this bank of low lying clouds when
I refuse to see the bad in myself, or the good in you?

Maybe one day long ago it came in on the little feet
of cats, but now the fog just quickens into a deadly white
while it thickens against the hell of hail and sleet.
The storm cannot even drive it away....
and I am buried in this intangible avalanche
of mist and I am at the fulcrum of this balance
of warm air and cold ground,
and what the fog reveals is surprising, like being
kissed on the cheek by a whisper off the lips of a ghost.
This is what the fog reveals...
This is the love unfound by us, but it ended
up being what we depended on the most.

4.4.2011

cost

what she sees most clearly
is a wide white line in the sky
stretching from end to end
more than just a horizon, but
something closer than that...
something that she owns:
her horizon...a herizon.
and as she sees the line
she thinks of him and
of how she once called him, 'mine.'
Once their hearts' soft surreal sadness
mixed with grief and made a mud
that morphed into
a recipe for catastrophe:
one part blood, two parts madness.
And though she mourns for the lies
and the love,
the numb sockets holding hazel
will not cry anymore.
Like clouds that cover a graveyard
no matter how many services,
call them funerals or memorials, or whatever,
the sky will not cry anymore,
and the clouds will not let rain
loose upon the land again.
no. never
no more showers...
Then she, like the other mourners
will disperse:
some in cars,
some in a hearse...
And as the last note of the bell
fades into the stunned
silence of a summer afternoon,
she will unlock the door
and enter the empty house.

march 2002

she hears

the unseen wind whispering
though she struggles to see the effect
of the blustery breeze on trees
blurring the edges of the branches rocking
back and forth as if life had come,
had come at last.
cumulus puckers pouting lips
spouting a drizzle
celestial spittle
flies in the face of the slightly less than perfect
reflection in the window, her face.
the uncertain rain on the glass is an echo
of the tears she still cries for the past...

2.27.2002

Daring Great

If only I had wings, I could rise above
Get out from under this sky that weighs on me heavily.
Sometimes I find it difficult to breathe when
Freedom feels too precious, too Paris,
Like a dream of falling only to wake
In the middlenight and look out the window
And see the snow gently fade to rain
Like the book that shows you how
To live up to your promises and be a man,
Shows you how to love again.
If only I had wings, I might smile, while I
Met people on the street, hiding my wings under
A sweatshirt and a baggy overcoat.
The ground could say goodbye to my feet, as I
Soar up through the clouds that hide stars
During Day.
I think I must have been a bird in a past life,
With a brain the size of a fingernail, and feathers.
I would need more postage to send myself hatemail.
But every season I could shed the loathing
I have for myself. Maybe that is why
I am a man now. With opposable thumbs
I can weild a knife and cut
Away the bitterness from my heart
That clogs my spirit's circulation like sausage grease, a
Disturbing Fate.
Maybe that is why my heart is heavy,
I have always been more concerned with How
While sadness filled me slowly,
Like water from a broken dam filling a valley...
And I am full now, but still oddly hollow,
Whatever threshold I had has been reached.
My bowed head casts a long shadow along the beach
And I ache, as with hunger at lunchtime on Sunday
When the sermon is still being preached.
I have asked politely for the world to share
When the world does not even know how to care.
I know this.
I have known this all along, but still I wish
For a narrow way through the
Darkening Gate.
If only I had wings I could walk
Among men with my comfortable secret,
Flight, my sacred consort, guiding me higher,
Past the place where Eagles cry and dive,
And I would be the one who wondered Why
My past cannot be changed. Though I
Stretch and pull and push, not one second or minute,
Day or hour can be rearranged. All the more
Reason to walk among men, follow the strangers to the gate.
Walking, something between standing and running,
Because I do not want to be late, and I cannot wait.
The house becomes a home becomes a house again
When terrified tenants are on the outside looking in,
Defining Wait.
Easy to see why the well is full of wishes and
Nickels and pennies. I fall asleep waiting for
My wishes to come true. Waiting for someone to
Tell me what to do. I grow old waiting for friends to
Show, when their absence is all I have ever known.
Once my search took me to a hundred churches
Looking for answers to unasked questions,
Healing for my hurts:
catcalls for short skirts that flare at the waist,
Daring Great.
If only I had wings, I could fly
Eyes burning with cold
Hair blowing in the wind. And
If you let some of my sins slide, I just
Might win heaven,
And ride my horse and carry my sword
Like Teddy Roosevelt and his rough riders,
Ready to die, just give the word,
Just give me the world...
I expect no less for daring greatly
Having been so blessed lately.

12.18.2001

Earthshine

The liquid light drips from the leaves of the trees

And from spaces in between

The branches golden rain gushes through

Spilling over friends like me and you.

You with a halo of heaven-sent sun

Fix blue orbs on me, on my condition.

Rays spread from above your head

Rays from above

Filling the space between

With days of love.

And the hawk flies faster than the dove

Throwing thin shadows from the trees

'Enough with waiting around...' says the sun.

Dusk blends the shades and deepens hue

Seeming almost silent like me and you;

the darkness frees,

and we come undone.

4.22.2002

Godspeak

I created the heavens and the earth
In just one week
From blue sky to brown dirt
I am God when I speak.

Silence surrenders to Me
When I raise the mountains
And scatter the seas
I do all of this and more with ease.

Yet there are quiet places still
Where morning fog hides the sun
Where forests shelter the damage done,
Rain cools the fire of My will.

Shadows created by My voice that created,
Pools of quiet, silent, serenity;
In cities of riot and violent, audacity.
A pity that the floodwaters ever abated.

My choice is simple and yet severe
When they beg and plead for proof
Claiming that what they want is the truth
My unwanted slaves my names revere.

They break the silence themselves
Crowding and clamoring in churches
Given over and over to foundless searches
And in vain attempts at creating heavens
All they have done is created hells.

There is none such with me or in me
I never had it in me, not even a little
I had a shadow of a voice, a riddle,
A puzzle, a treeless meadow, a sea,
That all I am was a choice:

A fact too simple to be believed.

6.25.2002

Shy Light

Waiting for Dawn
is the same
As making friends with the dark
As getting close to the night
As smart as swimming away from a shark
As crazy as it seems,
She cries for my heart
for what I've know all along.
Hungry bugs bit my legs
I scratch each bite into a welt.
It doesn't matter what I felt,
She waits for me in my dreams.

2003

Night Never

Hours before my bed is wet
With sheets soaking up my sweat
Darkness pulls two lids down tight
Against my life, against the light.
And nothing is the way it has been before.
A chorusconversation of Angels
Speakingsinging as the door Way opens.
I look about me and find that I
Am no longer broken. Hands that once
Held only justice unfair hold me close
And stroke my hair. A whisperinghush
Falls over them as I glance in their eyes
And see my reflection... I see no
Misdirection, no disguise, no more need for,
And no more lies. Armswings fold over
My shoulders, waist, back, and chest. Lips
Promise me freedoms and promise me rest,
Then I sleep without dreams
And night never comes.
Or so it seems.

2003

Ute Pass

I have walked the wide path
and the one known for narrow;
I have cut with hands like knives a swath
Through(for) all that might try to follow.
But my reluctance goes unnoticed at the well
And even at this late hour it is still too early to tell
Whether we will make it to the end
Or if the end will meet us in the middle.
The trail does not go on forever.
We try to see through a glass darkly,
But our words can barely reach around to our ears,
Our weak wisdom withers under the weight of years.
And still I wake with the Dawn and walk the path you tread--
I water with the Buffalo and Fawn and share their bread.
The same roots that reach for your feet
The same stones that touch your boots
Have reached for mine
and touched my mind.
I have worn many a shoe.
Do not stop or stoop to follow those who quit,
Neither fear the trail or the end of it.
For I am waiting for you.

2004

Ever Since

The belt stings biting into my back.
I can't use my hands to get up off the floor
And still cover my neck and the back of my head.
I know it won't do any good, it won't help,
But I still try to run...she'll chase me until she's done.

My brother's in the next room
He's pretending to be asleep
His eyes have adjusted to the dark
He wants to help but he's afraid to move.

I don't blame him, Not at all.
What could he do anyway, he's so small.
Even as I think this hurts worse than splinters
And a cold or a broken leg... I start to beg.

The words sound weak and stupid in my ears
This can't be anything but pure hell... I give up
begging because there's no one else here, and if I had
the belt and the rage I don't think I would listen either.

I crawl. I'm next to the wall by the closet door
The arm changes angles automatically to reach me--
Why won't she stop? At least I'm not crying anymore,
All I'm thinking now is better me than Lee.

Once I gave up the blame and the shame, a hard sacrifice.
I could nod to the pain of my past and say you've won.
Even when a cloud might drift across my heart as cold as ice
I still have nothing but kindness and love for my son.

I've escaped slavery with bravery to talk and share;
I've outgrown my hell and outlived my other self.
My own child is teaching me how to listen and how to care,
Since then I can finally smile at my past... I win.

5.25.2005

Middle Passage

In dreams clouds cover my eyes
They smother me I cannot breathe
I cannot fall; I cannot rise--
And when I was in my own arms
I was still not warm or safe from harm
And I was Merlyn then myself
Crossing my heart hoping to die
Crossing the threshold of hope
Into sheer unadulterated hell
Not in the way of gods
and no way to cope,
no one to tell.

And she was leaving with Anthony
A little boy of both of us
Begotten in a world of broken justice;

(Like bidding 'bye to the best of my life
sending them off with a sigh--
without a word returning to the rest of my life)

Roots of regret wash clean and drown
In an ocean of apathy.
I can return to these memories with less emotion now,
And maybe consider it a blessing
That she burned me right down to the ground.

While T. H. White whispered words
Alarming, unheeded, and unheard...
I was once more
In the Lord's world---
A clever chaotic creation
Through the cosmos hurled
Sent to come to rest in a spiral--
Galactic bacteria,
Or something worse...
Something viral.

7.27.2005

The Morning Before

We share a life and a lie
We swing our swords and words in an arc up to the sky.
Shadows shimmer and fade,
We wake a dollar short and a day late,
The dawn breaks like the cracking of an egg
Running yellows and reds and orange and pink
No more colors I beg...
I can't cry I can't sing I can't think.
The moon circles the earth in white, a sliver of a circle
Rounds the bend and winds like a clock of whens
With time enough we may have had a chance
Even when evening catches the sun and bends to blue
You kept circling while I waited for you.

2003

Silence

The golden sunset with its warm hues

Gives way to night with fiery light.

A gentle word, the kindness soothes

The savage heart that rages bright.

Joy and love in the hand of peace,

The life that’s sweet with no mourning.

The fog rolls in through the trees

A mighty cloud for every morning.

A solemn look of grave despair

Knowing you must go from hence.

A tear in the eye, a gaze of care,

Giving up at last to love’s long silence.

1987

Originally published in Days of Future Past, The National Library of Poetry, p. 239, 1989

HOPE

I want to tell you what my favorite verse is in The Bible, and why:

Zechariah 9:12

¹² Come back to the place of safety,
      all you prisoners who still have hope!
   I promise this very day
      that I will repay two blessings for each of your troubles. (Bible Gateway, NLT)

Another translation has it:

Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope;

Even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. (Strive, NLT)

I have seen in history and in my own life how this is true. When I was in college a girl I was living with at the time got pregnant. I was as full of stupidity and immaturity as I was youth and indiscretion, but nonetheless I was excited about the baby! Fast forward 7 weeks in the future. A miscarriage occurred that absolutely stopped me in my tracks. I had already named the baby, told all my friends/family, and was even reading to the little guy at night. It is not melodrama or an over-statement to say that I was shaken to my very core by this loss. I was going to name him Jordan.

Fast forward again, this time almost ten years in the future. God blesses me with the care of Morgan, my beautiful boy.

Fast forward once more, again this time almost ten years. God brings Jude into my life and my heart is stretched beyond what I thought possible with a crazy, powerful love for this little one.

Yes, Jordan was taken from me; but God returned to me Morgan and Jude. I have even been blessed with two wonderful step-children!

God does not screw around, especially when it comes to His promises. To put it as plainly as I can, He freaking honors His promises. He says if you continue to have hope, He will give you back twice what has been taken, and that is the absolute truth.

History has proven that He destroys utterly those He says He will destroy. He blesses those He says He will bless. No joke.

Why is this important? Why am I sharing this with you?

Well, when you hear my stories, read of my exploits in journal entries or status updates. When you see what appears to be me acting with an unreasonable, ill-informed determination. When it just looks like I am "banging my head against a wall" and you wonder why I have not given up yet...this is why.

I simply have hope.

The way I see it, as long as God does not give up on me, I will do my best not to give up on Him.

by Jefferson Brian Holbrook

Power

An Important Note on Spirit and Power:

The desire within us all to feel comfortable and safe can be a driver of many of the decisions that we make in daily life. This desire can sometimes lead us down a path to obtain power and strength as a means of protection or to a fortification of our respective positions. First, let us consider what power actually is. What does it look like?

In the movie Schindler’s List, the character Goeth says to Schindler: “You know, I look at you. I watch you. You're not a drunk. That's, that's real control. Control is power. That's power.”

Schindler replies: “Is that why they fear us?” Then the Nazi commander Goeth responds, “We have the power to kill, that's why they fear us.”

Then Schindler responds with what I believe to be an accurate description and definition of power: “They fear us because we have the power to kill arbitrarily. A man commits a crime, he should know better. We have him killed and we feel pretty good about it. Or we kill him ourselves and we feel even better. That's not power, though, that's justice. That's different than power. Power is when we have every justification to kill – and we don't.” (http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Schindler%27s_List)

My contention is that strength is ability, and that power is ability with foreberance. When we have married strength and might with patience and wisdom, then we have achieved an understanding of true power.

Both personally and professionally this search for power may result in manipulative behavior or other control ‘issues.’ What other lessons can we learn from history regarding power. How do we get it? How do we use it once we have it? Let’s look at a famous quote about strength from a writer who lived in the first century A.D.

The apostle Paul says in a letter to the Philippians (4:13) that “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” By Him he was referring to Jesus. But it is important to note that power does not come automatically to us and definitely not apart from God’s will.  This verse in Philippians is often quoted, but almost always quoted without the benefit of any other verse or any adequate context. Balance is crucial in understanding this key promise of God’s to give us strength for whatever we may face in life. Zechariah 4:6 can provide such context: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord Almighty.” Approached in these terms we can see that God’s all sufficient strength is afforded to those who access that strength through God’s Holy Spirit.

But why would God give us strength? What could His motivation be? In Jeremiah (29:11) we read that God has “plans to give you hope and a future.” So God does have plans to prosper us and see us win through every battle in life. But we cannot make the mistake of separating His strength from His will for our lives. To do so would be like doing the worst possible thing (our will) in the best possible manner (in God’s strength) and as history has shown, this invariably leads to the least satisfactory outcomes.

Having the ability to act decisively in any given situation is good. But being able to pause, think through possible outcomes, and choose the wisest course of action (or inaction), this is true power. Power gives us the opportunity to respond to a situation or personality instead of merely reacting. And this is where Jeremiah 29:11 intersects our lives, that there is a purpose and we can have hope. By accessing God’s Holy Spirit we will truly be able to do “all things through Him who strengthens.”

by Jefferson Brian Holbrook

A Book Review of Beyond Prisons

Beyond Prisons

A New Interfaith Paradigm for Our Failed Prison System

Author:  Laura Magnani and Harmon L. Wray

What can be learned about the criminal justice system that will lead to positive and radical change?  This question is both thoughtfully considered and thoroughly addressed by Laura Magnani and Harmon L. Wray in Beyond Prisons.  The authors begin with a history of early judicial process.  An objective portrayal of Quaker influence on the development of the criminal justice system in the United States provides a vivid backdrop for the current state of the prison system in America. 

From the first penitentiary in the 18^th century to the prevalence of mass incarceration in the “Super-Max” facilities of today American society has evinced a drift toward symptom-solutions instead of problem-solutions.  This collective mental shift has given rise to a fear-based judicial ideology.  The punitive measures delineated in America’s criminal justice system have devolved into revenge-oriented sentencing and incarceration. 

The “New Interfaith Paradigm” portion of the title to this work is not mere lip-service to an altruistic ideal.  The plan for immediate change involves aspects of clarity, concern, and compassion that cross religious, philosophical, spiritual, and geo-political boundaries.  From a template for restoration from the Qur’an that considers forgiveness a virtue to the non-violent resolution of conflict put forth by Zen Buddhism all avenues of reform are explored. 

Magnani and Wray can at times be painstakingly pragmatic in providing a plethora of statistical data to support their position.  On the other hand, the authors present a case for judicial reform that resonates with as much passion as practicality.  The information presented has been culled from years of experience and education.  The validity of the intellectual argument for radical reformation permeates every page of this scholarly work.  For reformation to be truly radical some aspect of abolishing the current system must be thoughtfully considered.  The authors present the AFSC (American Friends Service Committee) solution to the prison problem in a twelve-step plan that begins with Penal Abolition and ends with a Campaign for Reparations. 

I would recommend this book to any adult interested in expanding the horizons of responsible citizenship and contributing to positive change.  Beyond that I would also invite adolescents coming of age in American society to read this text to gain an understanding of what change they would like to see in “our failed prison system.” 

Review contributed by: Dr. Jefferson B. Holbrook a free-lance writer, photographer, and artist.

http://www.spiritrestoration.org/bookreviews/Beyond_Prisons.htm

How to Get Eaten by a Bear

In my Self-Help (Selfish-Helpless) Seminars I have heard this question many times, “Dr. Holbrook, how can I get eaten by a bear?” And I think I know where these people are coming from. Being eaten by a bear combines the thrill of getting close to nature with the excitement of a near-death (or, death) experience. It’s really a win-win.  And let’s not forget the bear who gets a good meal out of all this, so I think we would have to call it a win-win-win.

First, let’s talk about the geography of the situation. Bears are not pizzas and they will not just show up on your doorstep accompanied by a pimply faced teenager looking for a tip. And since bears cannot be delivered to us, we must go to where the bears are. At this point we want to target specific bear types as well. Polar bears may look cute sliding down a snowy hill drinking soda, but they are, in fact, vicious killers, so find a Polar bear if that is more convenient for you.  Grizzly bears are also viable candidates in the getting-eaten-by-a-bear scenario. They are like sharks on land and can smell blood from miles away. Extensive scientific studies have shown that Black bears are pussies who at best may only maul you, and that gets you no closer to your goal of being eaten by a bear. And don’t even get me started on Pandas and Koalas. They will not eat you unless you look like bamboo or smell like eucalyptus. Even then you may only get gnawed on slightly, and that is technically not getting eaten by a bear. So let’s remain focused on where and how to find the Polar bears and Grizzly bears.

We’ve already mentioned the need to go where the bears are, so where are they? Brown bears also known as Grizzlies can get up to ten feet tall and weigh as much as a car. So they should be easy to spot once you get close. They are similar in size to Polar bears and are the best choice for eating you because they are so mean. Many animals have a survival instinct that drives them to kill if necessary to eat in order to survive. The Grizzly bear is an animal that will eat you just for fun, even if it has already eaten and is quite full. That is just how mean they are.

You may at this point be asking yourself, “Why can’t I just go to my local zoo and get eaten by one those bears?” This is a good question and I have heard it many times. There are some problems with this scenario. First, ticket prices alone would disqualify many of us. And parking is always a nightmare. In addition to that, there are gates with bars to saw through, locks to pick, trenches to leap over and moats to cross. Take it from me, getting to these bears is not an easy process. And after all that, what if you are not completely successful? What if you only get maimed and not completely eaten by the bear, what then? I’ll tell you what, when the zoo opens the next day you will be a spectacle. Instead of your given name, you will be known as that guy in the bear exhibit. In addition to the ridicule and public humiliation you would most likely be the recipient of more than a little media attention. So let’s cross that option off of our lists.

If you live in the U. S. your closest bears are going to be in and around the Rocky Mountains just west of middle America. You may also wish to do a little recon by combing the internet for news of recent bear attacks. If you are fortunate enough to find news of a recent attack you can plan a trip to the exact spot mentioned in the article. Taking a taxi to your local airport will be preferable to just catching a ride from a friend or family member. These people will in most situations try to talk you out of going to where the bears are, especially when they hear of your plan to be eaten by one of them.

Once at the airport, it is important not to fall into the old habit of purchasing a round-trip ticket. Remember, you only need a one-way ticket, which will be less expensive as well. When you arrive at the town nearest to where the most recent bear attack took place you will want to visit the local store for some supplies. I would recommend purchasing at least 30 cans of salmon, obviously if the store has more than that, then just buy what they have. Don’t make the rookie mistake of just opening the cans of salmon into the pockets of your cargo pants, because that’s where the raw bacon goes. Take the salmon and smear it all over your skin and clothes like sunscreen. As long as you smell like spoiled cat food, then you are on the right track. While we’re on the subject of clothing, let’s keep it simple. Sparse, loose-fitting clothing will make it easy for the bear to get at you once we reach the ‘encounter’ phase of our plan.

You may want to buy a new pair of shoes for this experience. Rubber-soled boots will not only protect your ankles from potential sprains while hiking, but they will also allow you to hike more quietly, thereby not scaring any bears away. And just leave your cell phone and keys in the rental car, because the last thing you want is your Justin Beiber ring tone to scare the bear away. But, on second thought, there is no conclusive scientific evidence stating that such a ring tone would not just make the bear even angrier and thereby more apt to destroy you.

When you begin the hike to where the bear attack took place it is important to go alone. There are several reasons for this. The most obvious reason is that your well-meaning friend might just call for help, or worst-case-scenario, actually frighten the bear away. No, it is far better to meet your giant carnivore alone.

Once you reach your destination, do not be discouraged if you do not find your bear right away. Patience and persistence are the keys to successfully getting eaten by a bear. You may wish to go searching for your bear, and this is okay. Just make sure you are not making too much noise. Be mindful of the wind direction as well, because you want the bear to smell you and come running.

What do you do if you find a bear and he does not seem interested in eating you? Well, this hardly ever happens, but even at this point you have a few options. If there are any cubs nearby, the larger bear is more than likely a she-bear and things are really simple at this point. All you have to do is chase the cubs and around and maybe swat at them with your hand once or twice. This will get the she-bear’s attention and from there it will be smooth sailing. If there are no cubs in evidence then assume that your bear is a male. Throwing rocks and sticks at this bear may be enough to “get the show on the road,” so to speak. If not, then you may have to chase the bear. Don’t be afraid to make derogatory remarks about the bear in the loudest voice you have. Casting aspersions on the bear’s immediate family members may do the trick as well.

Once you have gotten the bear’s attention and the bear is coming close, there are no rules. Just do what comes naturally. You can even struggle a little bit or fight back if you want to make it more interesting. If you begin to feel intense pain followed by a period of permanent darkness, congratulations, you have been successfully eaten by a bear!

by Jefferson Brian Holbrook

February 2011

If We Had Green Ears

If we had green ears the world would
Be a different place. We would
look to the earth and not towards space.

If we had green ears we would hear the
Trees scream. We would hear the
bending, rending grass in our dreams.

If we had green ears the life of a shrub
Young and wild would be as dear to
us as the life of a child.

If we had green ears we could hear
The sobbing birch and maple; but it would
be worthwhile if just to make a table.

If we had green ears we would cradle the
Sapling as a babe and never lop it off to
see a trail become paved.

If we had green ears we would love the
Ivy and the weeds for as they breath out into
our lungs the insect surely feeds.

If we had green ears the sounds would be
A roar, and never would we kill again,
no never... evermore.

1991

Nocturnal Volume

It is louder than a lion's roar:
The pitch of a baby's scream.
The father stands, in the door
With dreams of angels in his head
and angels guarding his dreams.
It is plain as a woman's prattle:
The insects buzz a baleful din.
They speak of the heat of the battle;
Of wars to lose and win.
It is quiet as the lull in the storm:
The tender-sweet song of the lark.
Safe in the branches, away from harm;
Singing long into the cold, cold dark.
It is silent as the bending grass:
The snake that writhes in the green,
Biting with the edge of broken glass
Spilling poison vile and mean.
It is the hum of a lover's sigh:
The sleeping cat, thief of baby's breath,
Setting angels in the sky
One second after their ill-fated death.
It is the softing of a passing cloud:
When all is silent in the house
Dark eyes flash up and down,
As waits the scheming mouse.
It is silent as the summer breeze,
The silence of the heat in June.
Over the silence of the wary trees
So sets the heavy moon...

1987

How to Make Enemies in the Workplace

Many people in the corporate world are feeling encouraged today by helpful team-mates and are actually anxious to get involved in the lives of their co-workers by asking about their family, health, etc. This only leads to good morale and more efficient more productive work environments. But how do we stop all this nonsense? The only answer is to empower ourselves individually and to use the following guidelines to create enemies in the workplace.

In the beginning it is best to remember never to smile at anyone. And you can skip the pleasantries of a “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” “How are you doing?”, things like that. And in place of a warm greeting and a heartfelt smile, you may consider making direct eye contact briefly with your co-worker and squinting your eyes slightly. We will discuss eye-contact in more depth later, but for now let’s focus on the eye-squint. The eye-squint should be accompanied by a thoughtful frown. This is important because it may make the co-worker think they have something on their face or something is wrong with their hair, clothing, etc. This will put them on the defensive and they will at this point be less likely to engage you in any perky, positive conversation.

            Start as early as possible in your enemy making process. This means that you can actually work to create enemies before you even get in the building. Do not underestimate the payoff involved in driving or parking your car like a complete jerk while on company property. Subtlety is required in this phase of the plan. You don’t want to be reported to the security guards policing your particular work location, but you do want to generate a fair amount of negative energy among your co-workers. A great way to do this is to park your car like a real jerk. You don’t want to take up two spaces or park your car so close to another one as to ensure a call to security, but you do not want to pass up an opportunity to make an enemy. So, what you do is simply park in one space, and park as close as you can reasonably park to the car to your right. The majority of the time they will have pulled in facing front as opposed to backing in to the space. If they have backed in to the space you will be looking to park in close proximity to the car on your left. The trick is to park so close that they cannot easily or safely enter or exit their vehicle, but not so close as to warrant a call to security. Doing this on a daily basis will generate a great deal of negative feelings among your co-workers. Consistency is the key.

            Another important point for making enemies in the workplace is to do as little actual work as possible. If a co-worker’s job has become more difficult based on your indolence, then that co-worker will be more likely to become your enemy and at the very least may start rumors regarding your lack of a good work ethic. And this is where your success in enemy-making really takes off because rumors in the workplace often lead to a bad reputation.

            Starting counter-rumors is important as well. This is based on the premise of back-fires. Back-fires are the kinds of fires that firemen use to stop a larger fire by creating a line of already-burnt trees that the larger fire might have used for fuel to keep going. Counter-rumors use the same principle. After you have begun the enemy-making process, a co-worker might begin discussing your behavior or “attitude” problems with others. It is important here to be creative. When you are spreading rumors about someone the sky’s the limit. Studies have shown that people will believe anything. So even the most outlandish rumors will find some measure of acceptance among your listeners. Don’t be afraid to hint that your co-worker might actually be an alien or a robot, because, of course, people will believe anything.

            In advanced enemy-making we will see how important it is to mumble or make snide comments under your breath. A great occasion to make use of this skill is when you pass a co-worker in the hallway. They will more than likely be able to hear that you said something, but they definitely will not be able to make out anything specific, especially if you are only making little mumble noises and not really using words at all. This is where you can capitalize on the ambient paranoia that exists in many corporate environments, and use that paranoia to your advantage.

            If you are unlucky enough to have one of your co-workers actually speak to you in a “non-work” setting, such as hallways, restrooms, etc., then you can use this to your advantage as well. Avoid the common mistake of making direct eye contact as discussed above. In many societies this may convey to the person speaking that you actually care about what they are saying, or worse yet, that you might care about them as a person. So, eye contact is to be avoided at all costs. If you have to look somewhere, try looking in their general direction. Perhaps you can pretend that they have a stain on their teeth or clothing. Nodding your head and making small grunting noises is a good idea here, because it will communicate that you are noticing the fact that they are speaking without actually participating in the conversation. Once the speaker is finished wasting your time, you can employ a simple statement such as, “Okay, well, let me know how that goes,” or something similar. Don’t go overboard here and risk sending the wrong message. A simple brief sentence should suffice. After uttering your non-committal phrase it is important to leave that location immediately, as if you have an important meeting that you have to attend in some other part of the building.

            At this point it may be tempting to entertain the notion that in order to make enemies it is only necessary to be unfriendly to everyone at all times, and this could not be further from the truth. One key way to generate ill-will among your co-workers is to appear to be very friendly for a short period of time. After being friendly towards them and seemingly interested in the events of their boring, stupid, little lives, you can then withdraw completely from them suddenly and without warning. This will leave them wondering if they did or said something to offend you. Misunderstanding and confusion are your best assets during this phase of the enemy making process.

            Over-promise and under-deliver. Many leadership guides state that doing the reverse of this is a way to get ahead in the corporate world, and they are right to an extent. Therefore, by doing the opposite of what’s been previously recommended by the ‘experts,’ we give ourselves the best chance for creating enemies in the workplace. Here again it is important to be temporarily friendly. Seem eager for the “new challenges” that taking on more responsibility at work can provide. Volunteer for every new project that comes along. Make as many guarantees and promises that you can. The best thing about this plan is that no further action on your part is required. Just simply sit back and do nothing. If questioned about why you are not “delivering any results” for one project, blame the time you have been spending working on another project. This will pay huge dividends in a relatively short period of time.

            The use of sarcasm and condescension are to be used in written communications at all times. This is because written communication such as emails, text messages and meeting minutes are static. In many cases, these materials are archived for quite a number of years in the corporate world. Subtlety again is the key. The goal is to have a record that can be read in one way and on the surface seem quite innocuous. But if read with a “tone” or “attitude” it takes on a hidden, sinister meaning. Those reading the communication may think you might have been mean but will not be able to prove anything definitively.

            What does success look like? Well, you should still be employed at this point. We will discuss actually losing your job in a later article entitled, “How to Lose Your Job in 30 Days.” But, if all of your co-workers are avoiding you like the plague and no one is speaking to you then you have achieved some level of success. In addition to that, if no one is assigning any extra work for you under the guise of “new challenges” or “new opportunities,” and your chances of moving up in the company are slim to none, then congratulations! You have successfully created enemies in the workplace!

3.29.2011

Lament

the blood you’ve spilled leaves traces and lines of smears

behind as it leaves my body my heart from all the tiny cuts

and gashes you strip away what was yours and mine

and in the holes that are left, you fill with fears.

i am poisoned, beaten, and defeated;

i rise only to have the process repeated.

your sarcasm and condescension flay my emotions

as you attempt to slay me

from your lips to my ears takes but a second

then i recoil from your attack i reckoned

that you would stop then but you will not…

a hollow empty rage has inflamed me after

all of your vain and bloody attempts to tame me.

where once i loved you madly you are now

content with treating me badly.

the last three nights have been ugly, brutal, and long

and your words like bullets rip into me at the speed of sound.

all i ever wanted (doesn’t matter anymore)

was to live in a house that wasn’t haunted…

what i wouldn’t give to feel someone place a hand

on my back, my shoulder or my neck or brush

my cheek with a gentle touch?

should i stand up for myself, be bolder?

am i too damn weak?

or am just asking too much?

you’ve been gone all day and i wonder if you will come back

because you’ve been so useful in pointing out

everything i lack.

fine, whatever, go ahead and domesticate me

this involuntary celibacy is a slow spiritual castration.

should i be more grateful? for all this hellish hateful strife?

this is not the life i chose for myself:

one man against a nation.

i was never meant to bear the weight of so much pain

and so much hate.

i have forgotten what it felt like to be loved

to be understood, to have the last word,

or to ever be right.

looks like you get off on raking me over the coals

every day every night.

you win.

you have worn me down and torn me down.

you have won it all.

you have marched and blown your trumpets and

the stones of my confidence and character

have fallen like Jericho’s wall.

3.27.2011

The Forcing

In the night, in Central Park west,
A young woman fights to keep her
Purse, her freedom, her virginity,
And her identity. Before the moon
Rises she has lost all four
In Central Park west, in the night.

In the light of day, in the alley
Behind Dixon's Pharmacy
A young doctor feeds a monkey.
The monkey has strong arms and
Will not let go of his neck, not even
In the alley, in the light of day.

In a warm spring breeze, in a grove of trees,
A dead leaf surrenders to new life.
The brittle brown page has held on
Through storms and droughts for months.
Only the spark of green can ignite the leaf, unwelcome
In a grove of trees, in a warm spring breeze.

1989

Chlorophyl

She would work long hours on a
Computer in a word processing firm
for rent money. As under the
Spreading branches of a wide tree

We were sheltered.

She would go to school at night
To learn more about computers
To get a better job for extra
Food money. With fruit falling from the tree

We were fed.

She would make flash cards from
Index cards or loose leaf paper,
One would say DOG and another,
TABLE. From the runes of etched bark

We were taught.

She would sew our clothes back
Together, with gentle, wrinkled hands;
Loving us more than we could have ever
Understood. With fallen dried branches

We were warm.

She would sacrifice her time and money to
Keep us in school or on the playing field or
In the gymnasium... longing for a better day.

And with wood from the tree
We built ships
                     and sailed
                                    far
                                    away.

1989

Shadows

He pushes me to greater things and
He pushes me into the ground. He
Stands over me, protecting, but scares
Me. He regards me with contemptuous
Hate, though his eyes are as blue as
Mine. Bitterness and resentment take
Root in the shallow parched ground of
His soul. His spirit is as strong as
Mine... as stubborn, as willful. He
Challenges my every thought, questions
My every decision, daring in his anger.

Though, he can be generous, gentle, and kind,
We waged war against each other for
Many long tired years. Now we stand
Breathless: no more blood and no more
Tears. Sometimes the past fades like
Morning mist in the pale cold
Light of an uncertain future. He could
Be my darker self--- my conscience or
My creator; but he is not.
He is my brother.

1990

Fallen

The power and feeling is too close to be
Really understood. What keeps them
up in the air? That is the question
Most often asked. No one ever asks

What brings them down. Maybe the
Question least asked is answered more
Easily: the answer is all around us.
Noise pollution clutters their senses,

Air pollution drives them earthward.
We pay them little heed though
The two fates are intertwined. The
Same forces that push them down

Pull us down as well. Heaven does
Not entice us... Hell does not
Scare...and the earth holds
No promise.

1999

Courage

We stayed out long after curfew. Our
Storybook love was cliche', but we didn't
Care... we were young and it was summer.

We sat on the rocks when the tide
Came in, and watched as the stars
Danced and played over our heads.

We talked and kept talking even when
There was nothing more to say...
Afraid to leave and afraid to stay.

We had purposely forgotten our
Jackets, using the cold ocean breeze
As an excuse to get closer.

We held hands once I finally reached out
To you, and we kissed when I finally
Leaned over, minutes seeming forever.

We stopped kissing a little later; we stopped
Talking, too. We held each other close and
Watched the tide wash in and back again.

We had heard tales of the beauty of
The shrimp boats coming in at Jekyll Island
But were still amazed when they came.

We saw the lights of the trawlers wink
Knowingly through the mist and knew.
As the boats crept closer...we knew.

We knew that we would never be-- could
Never be closer than we were right then.
Anywhere else would not be where we were when

We heard the gentle waves caress the
Shore with quiet determination. We did
Not know why, but in the light of dawn

We could see, that our unspoken
Love was not what we thought it was,
But everything we hoped it would be.

2002

Sacrifice

It's too hot near the edge of the fire,
Give me your hand, little girl.
"But, no; I like the heat," she said, and
"Even so my foot is caught fast."
Beneath the stone? "Yes." The stone is too
Weighty my sweet one. "If you push from
The other side, then may you move the
Stone." But then I will be in the fire.

"The flames lick closer and soon we both
Will be food for the fire."

I look up at the Moon and ask her
Guidance in the weighty decision. But She
Answers me not. Yet do the stars
Wink at me from the pale dark sea,
Jeering: "Is love worth so much to you?"
They cry. I turn my eyes away from
The sky and I know the answer.

I look down at the frail form and see
She is laden with years, but the beauty
Of her heart sings to me, and the fire
Is nigh upon us. "Are you ready?"

You know that I am. "But it has been
Such a long time." Time can not reach
Us in the fire. She looks at me, eyes
Bright blue set against the heaving red wall
Of hell and smoke. I move into the fire,
And the pain seems familiar. The Stone
Is heavy, but I know it can be moved...

She is free but cannot walk;
I am free but cannot stand.
It's too hot near the edge of the fire
Give me your hand, my love.

2000

World Views

There is the spinning. The edges of the
Swirling mass fray a bit near the
Pitchest night where Dark Matter pulls
At far away points of light.

There is the soaring. The feathers of the
Pumping wings ache with exertion near
The shoulders that pull and push at dull
Memories... when the land is far away.

There is the swimming. The rippling of the
Shimmering scales flash in the light
Of a sun shining through the shallow surface,
Where darkness calls beckoning from the deep.

Here is the singing... of the fish who
Waits for the falcon... of the falcon who
Waits for the comet; and man who
Waits no more.

2001

Circles

The sky screams, sending shards of light
As if the light of a thousands suns was
Bleeding through the hard black wall of night.

The cracks in the wall though hidden from sight
Oft herald the fall of wavering faith
As they shrink from the gathering dawn.

Somewhere a rooster stirs and the Moon
And all her sparkling ladies in waiting
Surrender softly to the silent song.

2001

Echoes

Words beckon from the alley next to the cinema--
Whispers of need from a gangmember
In want of a drug-- lying there to bleed.

Reverberations of celebration in a kiss that says
I've missed you. Wanting nothing more than
just a gentle smile. Caught up in the rapture
of a love so new, a love so wild.

Sirens singing into the night. Help is on the way.
Saviours come in an ambulance of white.

The soft falling of a single tear. On a park bench
She's crying for someone who is no longer here.

Noise! Horns blaring cab drivers staring at what
they can never have. But boys will be boys.

And my love marks time like the ticking of a clock:
What else is forever for?

All these sounds and many more
echo off blacks walls in a house full of stars.

1995?

Firefly

My grandfather used to watch me
                                     watching fireflies
blink yellow light in the black night
He watched me till my past sunset
He watched me till his own sun set...

My heart goes out to her
as she waits for the truck to start
my heart goes out to them
as they stand; no longer far apart
i close my eyes
and see his heart give out again
God- why did you take my friend.
He was my only friend
the only one who would listen.

But i see my grandfather's blue eyes while
my son watches the fireflies
and it seems all right...

Maybe you needed someone to listen to You,
Oh my Lord, maybe you needed a friend too.

6.16.2005

La Tormenta Del Verano

Estan nublando
Y mi corazon es confuso tambien.
El silencio es todo en la ciudad
Y el silencio es todo en el mente.
Entonces...
Entonces la lluvia.
Llover en las calles.
Llover en las ciudades.
Llover en las tierras.
Llover en las paises.
Llover en la vida.

Storm in Spring

Clouds gathering
and my heart is confused.
The city is quiet,
Silence is total in my mind.
Then...
Then comes the rain.
It is raining in the streets
       raining on the cities
       raining on the houses
       raining in the country,
       raining in my life.

7.26.1995

Terrapindulum

A lonely soldier sends back to camp on a fire made for two. Guidance for Sherman on his way to the sea. Faint glimpses are all we see now. Clever whispers from someone we want to tell us how.
Give me that bread! But it's the last piece.
              so              hungry...
If wonders never cease why are there only eight in the whole world.
And why in the world do we wait.
                                       We wait for someone to tell us how.
We want for someone to tell us they care. But someone comes along and tells the soldier how to light the fire.
Gather the wood; strike the match.
I tell myself I can't but I know if I tried I could. Been living and dying a lie.
Sherman knows the way to the sea. Doesn't need my help to find east. So i sit by the road and shoulder the burden of four years of giving and trying. Trying not to cry in front of Brother Turtle. War up ahead war behind. Will I find what I'm looking for, or will I wind up dead? The tortoise is old and thinks slower than he talks; walks slower than he thinks. Yet he may answer if I help him across the road.
The road you seek is the east but not the east of war. You are unexpected yet longed for.
You are unknown yet familiar.
He climbed to the top of the long log and sat next to me, shell straight, paws politely folded below the chin.
You look to the north and south of your mind and think the war is that which you will either lose or win. But who will win the peace?
I've been marching through all the sunsets this southern land has to offer. Hell and death before peace they scream as they spit musketballs from trees.
War is but a general agreement of dissatisfaction. Find your own peace; let others find their own way.
So it is peace i seek? Lying back against the fallen oak with my feet pushed out on sandy earth i try to remember long ago dreams of harmony.
My friend, he laughed his turtle laugh, serenity seeks you with an open heart and clear blue eyes. Her hair ripples out from her perfect face as blond as the rays of the sun. I have seen her through store front windows, and through shelves of glass witnessed her gentle hand.
To find this treasure without a map. I do not think I can. But the turtle wasn't listening to me. He moved along the log to chew some moss at the other end.
Worthy is the wait: for a strong love needs a strong heart, he said at last. He looked at me with his turtle eyes, blinked once, twice, then asked me to help him down. I wondered at how I could feel such a loss from something I never had as I lowered him gently to the ground.

11.18.1996

Awakening

Sleep comes with the gentle steps of an approaching day.

Only when the night-time demons abate can he find a

brief respite. Settled.

In the mire.

If he struggles he knows he will only sink faster. Power:

seems always to be at his fingertips,

but he cannot hold it in his hands,

cannot lift it,

cannot pull it into his chest. Money:

flows like water, and his earnest efforts seldom

result in better than ramshackle irrigation.

On his twenty-nineth birthday

he stares agape through pale, slate windows

at half-humans... looking for some hint of recognition,

some glimpse of hope.

He tries to build a home of his own,

never fully realizing the truth.

Days fly like pages of a book blown by a strong wind.

For years his determined efforts have seemed

clumsy and awkward.

Like constructing a house with no plans, skill,

or experience. No.

He knows that if he falls the angels will lift him up.

So though the way is hard his steps are steady.

And every day he is winning the war and losing the battles

of his life.

He stares out of the hollowed window-hole of adobe,

rain on his face

and stars in his eyes.

8.24.1994

We

The greening of the eyes move too soon across the field where sight gives way to blinding sun. A hawk sighs along a pocket of warm air moving above us. I dry the cautious tears let fall by a heart too heavy to bear the weight of two. The bluing of the sky mourns the loss of the heaven's bright protector and pulls a blanket of stars slowly close for comfort. But the Creator's food chain is only as weak as its strongest link. And the soul of the gazelle moves into the spirit of the lion for one loose stone-- one off-balanced hesitation. The blacking of the night marks the winding path of least resistance which proves to be more unlucky than not. I smile. We: are like animals in our king-size quilted ocean of aggression; like humans with our self-conscious suspicions; and, like gods in our gently compassions...

12.16.1996

September Remembers

your love crashes over me like a wave
from the sea and it saves me...
you believe in me as you breath life into me
i hear the whisper of the word that was made
just for us, trust is the ink and hope the pen
that moves gently over paper in creation of that word: Love.

let it always be like this, when it never begins
with a kiss but merely a glance that speaks
of a deep regard that is clearly romance.
Our eyes lock, twist, bend, then blend.
We cannot resist falling in love all over again.
Then i touch your hair with my hand
while outside it rains and thunders and we are warm.
Our love is rare and i try not to understand
or explain, why i keep falling for you out of the blue
like the first drop of rain from a summer storm.

9.4.2006