In the rightness of its wrongness, which frames and feeds

My unformed faith:

The vestiges of fairy tales,
Wise men,
Their wands,
My age
and the condition of my dreams.

Regardless,
I can always leave, start something new,
Forgetting everything.

How Dare I?
Because I am the pride of my own self.
A tribute to my me-ness.

How Dare I?
See this badge of courage?
Awarded for the imperfection of my questions?

Or,
I can refuse to leave, and press through a hive of mysteries
With the mere persistence of my presence,

Which is all wrong,
Lacking symmetry,
At first glance, pretty ugly –

Although awkward,
Never blundering, mostly trusting
That the pattern made by all those questions
Will be revealed.

Started 2005 (the only one that year)
Finished enough to post today.

What am I thinking? Like I have the time to keep up with all of this (not to mention the ones I still plan to add)??

Poems
(so wordpress can be my personal poetry database)

Living Community
(because I never stop thinking about it)

Work, in Plain English
(translated from the Middle Jargonish)


... And this doesn't count my social media pages, a list of which I've compiled over at VIRB.

It wasn't purely a dream. I was napping one afternoon, and as I sank into the in-between, I was thinking about the French word, 'revenant' (not sure why). Then I thought of my son, and having to explain about French, and all those letters you don't pronounce.

The next thing I knew, he was filling a sack with all the useless letters that he was going to take away from the French.

I saw a host of angry French folk, outraged and shouting at this impertinent, disruptive child. And I saw my son, with the knee-high sack at his feet, shouting back, "But you're not even using them!"

Well, that woke me with a start. He really is just like that.

My son (who just turned eight) and I have been playing a car spotting game, calling out car makes, usually by spotting the logo on the back of the car.

The other day, he shouted out, "Inny! I mean – Outy!"

I was confused. "I thought we were playing the car game," I said.

"Yeah," he answered, "The logo with the four circles. That's Outy, isn't it?"



= . = . = . =

Folks outside of the US: Keep in mind us Americans would pronounce it 'Audi'.

Click Here to sign the Darfur Petition!

Been busy, but great and grand changes are happening.

I choose to believe.

Piano picking
plink plunk plink plunk plink: Thoughtful
touches, gentle notes.

There is a name for that thing
that is both practical and perilous,
beautiful and treacherous,
comforting and poisonous.

Today I am a moth, having
the hardest time discerning
the moon from near
a thousand candle flames.

Now, I mustn't blame the flame.
I can just realign my instincts,
look deeper than the glow,
trust the part of me that knows

not to fear the haunting shimmer
but recall with love the moon.
Though my wings are singed and tattered,

somewhere tonight,
there is a light that will lead me home.

Intense Celtic things found at From the Green Wood

This one is by David Lawrence. So lovely.

Because I came ready for a fight
Nobilized the misery
Clung to the loneliness
Felt sorry for myself

A thick and smoky film
Dropped heavily
On any sanity
I may have brought or conjured
In this damn town

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Undermine censorship by publishing irrepressible fragments of censored material on your own site. The more people take part, the more we can defeat unwarranted censorship and create an unstoppable network of protest.