Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

Today You Get Half of Me

today you get half of me
but that is better than nothing
i’ll be as present as i can be
and at least that’s something
so today you’ll have to be
satisfied with
just some of me

i wonder if it is a gross mythology
that i’m to be fully present in everything
the idea doesn’t seem grounded in reality
it just leaves me full of guilt and struggling
with a heightened sense of my inadequacies

so today you’re stuck with half of me
and tomorrow i suspect will be
more of the same thing
and while you won’t be getting all of me
the part of me that i bring
will hopefully be
the better half of me

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

Wind of Constancy

wind of constancy
blowing in from the sea
filling me

pushing away the lethargy
that has so encumbered me
within this mortal body

i listen for divinity
in this wind of constancy
a call to be free

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

Two Christ Questions

I find notes
from earlier
spiritual direction
words faded
under a layer of dust
daily reminder
to be aware
of self and other
and the One
who is to be my guide
who having everything
became nothing
so that I could be
who having all
became a servant
to all

that too
is our call
this giving
and receiving
of Christ
our daily

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane


it is not always
to sit down
the tendency
to do
the need
to be
(at least
for me)
to rest
where the
and i
can meet
that i
take a

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane


I used to believe that I wrestled with God.

I do not.
I wrestle with myself,
my Geminian twin.

God is a bystander.
Until we separate, make wide the circle, and
let her in.

I am still a card-carrying member of original sin.

(Originally posted here in July 2011)

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

A Foolish Way to Live

Along the mountain roads of West Virginia, I follow a flatbed semi empty of its load, red taillights glowing like the eyes of strange creatures luring me into the fog. Dark trees hang over us, dripping in the mist and it is easy for me to believe that I am once again traveling through Monte Verde.

My cell phone lost signal long ago and so I am left with the wanderings of my imagination and the James Lee Burke audiobook whispering through the speakers of my car. I am on my way to a place of love to sing songs for people both known and unknown. It is a journey I have made many times before singing songs I have often sung.

As I drive, I am struck by the words I am listening to which so encapsulate who I am.

“I don’t like the world the way it is and I miss the past. It’s a foolish way to live.”

If such is the case, then I guess I am a fool and will forever be. Oh, for more of a life of such foolishness.

Suddenly, my phone starts to buzz and lights up with the notifications as the signal from the cell phone tower finally breaks through the barrier of these mountains. I sigh, realizing my brief isolation is at an end. There is a cost sometimes, the price we pay unknown, for what we think is connection.

Then I am turning into the parking lot, familiar faces before me, the guitar case bouncing on the seat behind me in anticipation of song.

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane


some things are best left alone
bright signage warning away

yet the temptation is great to remain close behind
following the familiar
running the same old routes in the same old ruts

beware the abrupt turn
the quick stop
the sudden debris field

the road to perdition
is its own brutal end

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

Strange Dreams of the Now and the Not Yet

the storm has passed
i am spent
another night of dreams
full of regret
i awake so exhausted
i wonder if i have slept
i can’t make sense of the world within
there is such a disconnect
what i do while awake is never enough
i’m still working on the same project
with no finish line in sight
caught in the now and not yet

i keep putting words to paper
but cannot seem to forget the lives unlived
troubled by the unknown and a solitary mindset
still seeking that place where i can finally rest
free from dreams that mock my choices
and the faith i confess

all i do and have done is never enough
why am still so full of so many regrets
lives i could have lived with lovers i have met
still trying to make sense of what i will never understand
caught in this web of the now and not yet

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

Struck Dumb

there is still so much i want to say
so much i want to share
the conversations
play on endlessly in my brain

yet my fleeces remain dry
the venues i sang in have all closed
my phone calls are not returned
my inbox remains empty
the podium is occupied
the microphone given to another

my words are thrown back in my face
and suddenly somehow i am the one in the wrong
my stories remain unfinished
while others form within the maelstrom within

i see what is incomplete
rooms in the midst of renovation
the refuse of life
projects left undone
art that i must pack away because there is no place for them here

my body left weak from a week of sickness
my mind ravaged by another betrayal in a long line of them

why i must work quietly here
i know not
but that is what i am being told

to be silent
to wait
to feed on the bread of life
to let that be my work

out of that labor will come my voice