Monday, May 29, 2006

10 Minute Spill

Fountain lick; the sound of water down the building,
or is it just circulating with the whir of the AC?
No, it's really coming down now and the strawberries
will have beaded up
under the clouds over Songtan Farmer's market.
The tile on the strip is slipping like ice now
and the buildings drip with sky saliva
Can't teach an ahjahshee the new tricks
cab drivers use. Sometimes I wish I had
face and hands like brown speckled paper.

Haiku--A collection

First day of winter
Truly the streets are quiet
For now snow is king

Clear stacked together
Makes white of brown fields turning
Mushy gray from feet

Brown lifeless concrete
Burning barefoot soles of feet
Scars from crossing streets

Heat is overhead
Sounds of shuffling on the street
Brown lifeless concrete

Stream turned vapor white
I should have stayed in bed
Heat is overhead

Sunday, May 28, 2006

The Phone Cards Are On Me...Love, Ray

I don't hate goodbyes;
I'm just afraid of the "hellos" that lead to them
and the inevitable forgetting; memory gene pool
shallow and thin; not even wispy
too strong a word for our first meeting.

It's like that now; almost; nothing new coming in
just premade cards stacking up in my
"I can't bring myself to throw it away" box
because it's supposed to mean something
even if that moment is 5 months old.
I don't mind saying "goodbye"
just promise you won't hear me.


Today we went to Suwon;
travel on short term.
I was waiting to cross after we hiked fortress walls.
We darted out in front of the last car,
bowl full of meeguhks and two Canadiennes.
Canada Will & American Will; distinctions, decisions
come to me like imprecise seconds on the clock
in the living room; keeps losing time.
I thought: I have lost this year
I fell in love with paper and neglected blue sky

The thing I keep thinking

All fantasies and imaginings taken in chains to Christ
--change custody; once captive now captor
and I want to scream; up on the roof; out at the rice paddies

Instead, inside the furnace is kindled by the same hand--
ignited from the throne to burn away all the fuel He gave into sweet incense
--the prayers of the saints.

Grace & Peace: Live on Stage!

Concept 1 & Concept 2 wrapped neatly
pick it up--one size fits all
one Spirit; on Christ; one Baptism
Bread lines; army green cloaks of humility
but don't I have to come begging; don't I have to keep asking; coming back
again and again--addict; junkie; mystery pills--G & P
Can't it just be an IV?
or do I have to be knighted again, blessed with holy water...
like the first time didn't take--bad perm 7th grade

I want to live in it!
I want to worship in Your temple without forgetting to remove my shoes.
I want to lie out like Ezekiel; on my side so You can pour over me all I hide my face from.

Mountains 2000 & Mobile 2003

The gentle beckoning of a Savior
--out on the ledge;crawling
hands & knees scraping on concrete
stingin now, but He's stopped, and He's wooing.

Release & life/Release & death
But this isn't just one moment of revelation;
a lifetime of rescues
Now He's a lover, and in between rescues--I'm satisfied

The intimate wooing of a lover--in the secret place;
moving--my attention is His, and I know Him.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Muslim of Humility

What time I am overwhelmed
I will trust in You.
Siren song call to death.
I will put my forehead on the ground
and pull my knees up under
Knees and face to the floor
my prayer rug is a sweatshirt
I lie on the floor of my classroom
door locked, lights off
not concerned with direction but duration

The Censer is Full

The four square city
has a four square cross
rotating in front of the glory of God
like an ornament or a doorway
to the grain from Your hand

the grain of gold in a clay bowl
shaken out
while the Lion watches
the fire follows the harvest of repentance
wings unfurl, eyes, spokes on wheels of flame
wrapped around my terrible LORD
the holy black and white

Masks Dissolving

let the water move
stir up the stagnate baptismal
the inward fire will dance on the surface
because it dances in the depths

first obedience; second blessing
let the golden bowl tip and pour,
douse; quench but fuel
and the fire will fall
and the fire will rise, surround and consume
the living sacrifice

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Ji San Dong 849 2nd Floor

I bought a new dress today; I keep getting them dirty.
This one's a burial shroud too; the one I always wanted
I'm a bride and my veil is the pall
that hides my glory.
I've trimmed my wick; my lamp is full
and I've been standing outside looking up the road for 17 years.
It's a dusty spot, and some others waiting with me
have made it a home of sorts with all the conveniences,
but I can spot a counterfeit,
and on clear days I can see the room built for me--the place prepared
where I will live with my husband.

Hmmm, my husband.

Tonight the whole city smells like fresh grapes and honeysuckle
I'm waiting outside again because this is not my home anymore
the breeze carries traffic sounds and yellow pine pollen
the sounds of all my longing;

the seed went into the ground, died, and birthed a tree
the tree produced fruit and the fruit dropped from the branch
fell into the ground and died.

just bury me in my wedding dress

2001-Offering Envelope Side 2

Partially sanctified, Father.
Is that why I doubt?
Is that why I follow without compass?

Partiality is blessed.
Blessed partiality; desire is blessed

To enter Your presence, Father.
To bring back to You the wisdom, peace and goodness
You sent out in me.
Wholesomeness--to be full before You, Lord.

2001--Offering Envelope Side 1

I threw my emotions out into
the streets, out there with the
wisdom to know they came from you.
Oh, I feel suffering.
You must have hidden that one
in my pocket while my false logic
threw my infant belief out with the bathwater.
Challenged, I feel that too,
but I am not surprised that
You challenge me; surprise me.
Order my pride till it has no more foundation to stand.

It comes as no real shock
that my most dear loved ones think I'm foolish,
pitiable because I chose to listen;
to listen to Your Spirit.

Speak Spirit; speak to my foolishness; speak to my undoing.
And as You continue to abase me; speak to those I love;
speak against their foolishness.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

A Continuation of the Beginning in Strict Denial of the End: Because of Jesus and Pablo Neruda

We are the two gathered in His name.
We are the one flesh.
We are.
He is.
We are: the vine and branches;
the shepherd and sheep;
the lover and beloved.
We are.
He is.

After the Airport

Solomon is nothing; and all his songs, caucophony.
The stars are empty, the sea is no mystery.

But you, you are my long forever.
I cannot see beyond the joy that waits in your arms.
Your hands stretch out around me, holding my fear
as if it were only a drop resting in your palm.
That is where I am, cradled, covered, knowing your strength.

Your joy is my joy.
You are my continuation; I am yours.
You are wild; I am beautiful.
You are romance; I am the prize.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Instead of Fear and Worry

simplicity is the beginning
the boiled down--the revealed
how I long for simplicity--not ignorance--simplicity

but peace is bought; not earned
bought like white robes and a new name
it is bought without money
it is bought with everything that I think at some point was mine
how ridiculous

I own nothing
I claim nothing as my own
I am nothing

maybe humility is the beginning
maybe it's the middle too
and maybe at the end of all things...
after I have drunk the cup down to the bottom
I'll find humility--the only thing that won't be burned away

Monday, May 08, 2006

Thodupuzha Centre Full Gospel Church One Day Women's Conference

I see my Delta blues, my motown melody, my 1, 3, 5 fits well without a steady beat
and I can sing all over the 12/8.
They are so much in earnest, hands striking
faster and faster until a cry emerges,
rises from somewhere in my inner man.
It is the same cry I make so many times when I am desperate;
when there is nothing left;
no dream, no hope, no pretense, no fight
and I have to grieve this world: the death that is and will come.


He is the root ripper, the supplanter, the transformer. He is the farmer who should receive first of his crop, best, first, prime. And the fruit is the reflection, the mirror image, the progeny of life, of truth because He has usurped death. He is the blessing and the blessed to make us the blessing and the blessed. Mangos from figs, miraculous nature of God.

Full Gospel

Now is the time of our need;
the road of desperation marked in creased faces intent lines and hands.
The new song hangs over us, the kingdom gains,
our credibility dies; the head covering a burial shroud.
Two fingers clenched against a thumb;
nothing can stand against Jesus and the testimony of my Indian brother sitting on the floor,
and the Spirit who presses and settles truth deep into my inner man.

Meditation at 8pm

Death itself is a quick change of situation
from life to death--quick change
It is the grieving that demands so much time.
Slow, painful memories of the letting go.
Deliberate choosing of closure feels like betrayal;
seems like heart amputation, but it is the seed opening;
grief is God's emotion, and He is no stranger
to the death of a world who is stranger to Him.


Sunsets are red in India;
they settle in around quietly
giving way to florescent lighting and bugs;
to conversation and singing;
to stories and prayers from one pilgrim to another.

This is communion: masala tea and cake,
and we remember;
break out the pictures of Ebeneezers and tell stories of how Jesus is with us.