Ash is Soon

Ash is Soon
dusty tears
from the brief fire.

Blaze White.
Be the Strongest Light.
the Warmest Bright.

So even gone
still in God’s sight

ash will
burn

Might

maybe, may Be
maybe strong
or
may Be Right

maybe should
Or
may Be Good

dusky might—
dark or Light?

which might mine?

Maybe May Be

Sinful Skin

Scream as
I scour you
Scathe you
Scald you

And still
You scorn the penance paid
Scarce my prayers are made
You betray me.

The scourge is within.
I cannot win.

Once More--and Always--to the Lake

My heart leaves on the waves
The tide takes it out, out

My soul sinks into the sand
The water washes it out, out

Into the water
Onto the shore

Small sweet sea
Enmeshes me

I touch the moon and sun
Light lapping in the watery net

Where I’m caught, caught.
Never let me out.

Green Ghosts

A gate on the High Way

Land escapes
where green ghosts gather

My soul, we will go to them!
My soul, we will speak to them!

A road of days until I am all windows
No engine but the wind

Land escapes
where green ghosts gather

A gate on the High Way

Open

Horizontal Doors

Open with a press
Let them with a finger
Let them with a kiss

Against each other:
With

close
still
Close

Tender knocks, hard blushes
Wet-hinged red wood

Open with a word
Open with a kiss

What Teaching Is Like

Esme Raji Codell, a young teacher, aptly says about teaching: “They don’t tell you it’s like [...] going to hell or sleepwalking or being afraid, afraid as you were when you were small.”