Posted in Prayers and the Sacred

Leviathan’s TWomb (a reluctant prophet’s song in four parts)

face pressed
against foreign sand
reeking of fish spume

soul cast
by divine’s demand
to where my enemies loom

body risen
in a strange land
birthed from whale’s womb

voice shouts
a jagged command
be freed from leviathan’s tomb!

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)


i awake

rising from
the mud
the taste
of pig slop
still in
my mouth
i begin
the long

Posted in Prayers and the Sacred

The Cubicle Christ (or Prayer for My Kick Ass Jesus)

O Jesus,
in the cubicles of my mind,
where work,
both good and bad,
is done,
will you be my
Temple Christ,
the Table Overturner,
the Barrier Breaker,
my angry Love-that-will-not let-me-go

Will you tear down these ugly walls,
expose the thieves who have roosted here to steal my joy,
reveal the dark places underneath the desks where they hide,
and rip the cords of distraction from the walls?

Will you set another beach fire in the center of my brain,
burn the reams of paper where they scribbled their lies,
cross the ashes on my forehead,
and ask me again if I love You?

O Lord and Master,
I confess that You have become neither to me.
I have tried to hide from You within these post-it-note-covered walls.
I have become unaccustomed to the searing pain of your Light.
I have been bent over before the screen of my agenda for so long that I have become crippled and blind.
My mind is sick.
My soul is lost.
My body is no longer your temple.

my Kick Ass Jesus,
on my knees now,
I beg You:

Start swinging.
Open up this workroom.
Throw out the wall makers.
Show me again the Holy of Holies.
Shatter the shaded windows of this place,
until all I see are the shards of my brokeness falling like lightning from on high,
glistening like my tears
in the burning
glare of Your
all consuming,