In the last days…

At times 

I think they want me

to see You

through barbed wire fire,

like a fish they’ve bought

and cut and 

put on 

hooks and snags and 

pincushion chairs 


gods are torn and 


and blocks of wood 

sans eyes 

sans ears

are blessed to mess with peoples minds.

and I think,

can they possibly be talking about You

the One who walks

 on water?

Isaiah is told 

“go stand over there


Not There!”

(I suppose he was born in the wrong dispensation)

but oh that he could have
would have 


his letters gather moss

under a cushion table top..




to carry God about, tend to his needs 

remember to feed him according to our doctrine 

forgive me if I’m out of line,

but isn’t He the one

who holds us, in His hands?

yet still …

Uzzah steadies the ark…



isn’t it time

for me 

to stand in open fields,

watch the sun rise  

upon eyelashes of mercy..

hear flying fish stop 

to wonder at our stupidity,


they don’t think of



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