when I look at green
I feel loved.
the shades in ripples which
lasso the light
all foreground
a prophecy

when I look at dark
I feel held.
Just to see is evidence
of gravity even
fractures of leaf
in buoyancy

to see the focal point
of forest
makes a love to my eye
that bonds my soul
as do lips to hair’s nape
a dream as

chartreuse reaches
it’s fronds toward me.

My partner in poems: This mystic man whom other men remind
me of in fractions
The creator who mirrors me in parenthood bent from
lover's arms
My soft childhood face never a shame when it comes to light
a fatherhood
My watchful life is his eyes and my voice his breath brushed
lips a smile
The company of silent crowded yet to be revealed which hold us
married a fertile field
Iconic creatures clothed in words reflected a face of one
greeted in many

write your own mail

It's only money

Stephen Barnwell is just one artist highlighted here @ Rag and Bone.
Amazing how good a pocket full of money feels. Isn't it fun to find a $5 dollar bill in your jacket? What kind of mental money do we have stashed away?

...listen for God's voice in everything you do Proverbs 3:6

Such Massive Explosions Blast Elements...

...like iron, carbon, and oxygen out into the universe. "The iron in our blood is from supernovas," says astrophysicist Andrew MacFadyen. "There's a direct connection between stars and us."

Writing what I listen to:

It's a bad day. It's a day we can't remember with fondness. It is a day where those who mourn, parents and brothers and sisters and grandmothers and uncles and aunts and grandfathers feel nothing more than the end of the world.

Can we start to feel what people of another race and culture would feel? Can we start to reject violence in all its faces and forms? Can we start to see that those who live by the sword may even unjustly die by the sword?

Many have already beat their swords into plow hooks. In response to violence I want to reject arms and entertainment that makes an excuse for not caring. I reject "Grindhouse" and CSI and first strike.

I knit and I write. I cook meals and I read stories. I pray and I wait for the kingdom hoping that my daily life is consistant with the company of Jesus.
But the bad days come as he warned. The days that are worse than any should have to endure. There are those who wouldn't let themselves believe in a new place, a place of eternal life. But in the gospel of John he is said to have spoken these words:

...I am going away to him who sent me...you are plunged onto grief because of what I have told you. Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is for your good that I am leaving you. If I do not go, your Advocate will not come, whereas if I go, I will send him to you...

Your grief will be turned to joy.

I agree and let it be so.

writing fast 4/9-4/16

4/5 Visions Fall 4/8

The open meadow in mist
of light
cannot be touched by
gnome or knight

The droplets hang in
suspended day
layered in meaning
the sighted pay

The page is turned as
a white dust road
ancient prisoner
you may behold

The cool browed vista
that lead to this place
is still envisioned
an altered grace

The metaphor
in draught or flood
can only whisper
of the Good

Away it goes
the way of earth
a tale a cycle
a chosen birth

Promises of rain
and yield
push to resist
a barren field

To faint now in
the face of dread
dishonors faith
in what he said

I watch the seed
of life be sown
In visions cast
thrown down, outgrown

Something new
must hidden stay
in artifacts the
dead display

Seeds and sun or
clouds of rain
bring you embraced
recovered friend

California Icon

The road to freedom is still filled with symbols and sign posts. Iconography is a cry of liberation for every era and culture that engages it. The textures of orthodox, European and Latin icons are interchangeable in our smaller world.

Sojourner Truth understood the power of image. She hoped people who bought her photo card would feel that her message lived on with them;
her message of inherent dignity and freedom.

The images on which we choose to set our eyes will determine our course.
A Ukrainian girl might choose to go far from home because she believes the images of an affluent lifestyle that are now racing into her new-born culture.
A Mexican woman may risk illegal boarder-crossing to feed her family. Or her brother may have been kidnapped to feed the appetite of someone addicted to his image on the internet.

The trafficker and the trafficked alike will pray to the Mother of God.

Leaders of every generation need to rally behind liberators.

Compassion as tender as the thread on a quilt is the only thing that will construct a lasting freedom.

California Icon
Suzanna Bond
3/07
machine pieced and quilted
cotton with rayon, nylon, and cotton thread
28 ¾” x 32 ½”

Never Have Before

I wish I could craft courage
like I would a quilt.
I would cut up what I know
and stitch it into what I want.
After all the layers of desire
were bound together I could
Take my courage and lay down
and feel my fear warm,
Then melt, soft like skin
to sleep in love like I never
have before.

The Best

This is going to be a strange review.

I'm not really going to tell you what this book is about. You could see that on amazon

What I will say is that I hardly got through the first chapter before I had to put it down for a good cry. I mean a Good cry.
I could see right where this was going. I could see the truth of the story all layed out in front of me. I could tell that Lisa Samson was writing from her heart, from the past experiences of her life. Lisa has met some really wonderful people in a soup kitchen. She wrote of them in her blog "streets with dwellings" which I read up off and on all last year. But that's not what made me connect with this book at the first word. It's that I was relieved to hear a story that could capture my imagination as to how to begin the release from a self-pleasing life to one of deeper purpose and intention. (Oprah's not the only one who likes that word.)

I like this book.

I used to sing Kelly Willard's songs. One in particular that I can't even remember the name of; but amazingly, all of the words came floating to the top of my memory after I read Lisa' book last week. This song, for some Holy Spirit reason, made me weep every time I sang it. It describes what I was, what I am and what I want to be. Kind of like Lisa's book, Quaker Summer. Want me to sing Kelly's song for you?

I know a lady, who lives in a very beautiful home.
Her house was full of the most expensive things a man could own.
But her heart was empty, so very empty, deep within.

I know a lady who humbled herself before her Lord and King.
Her heart was willing to bow down and surrender everything, everything.
Her heart is full now, righteousness, peace and joy dwell within, Halleluiah!

She heard him say
Come unto me all ye who labor
Ye heavy laden, come and find rest.
Cause if you loose your life in this world
You will find new life in Me
Are you willing to give up the good things
for the best?

A Beautiful Face

I stared at the picture on the back of the truck. The faces of a man and woman encouraging me to apply for work as an ice cream salesperson.

It's hard to take a face seriously when they are everywhere.
A face is a powerful image.

The same face was looking at me from the back page ad in the magazine I was reading this morning. A stock photo! Of course! And here I had been lured into wondering if this gentile face of a 20-something woman was happy in her work. See how gullible I am? I began to imagine that because she was so good at ice cream, they had taken her picture as a reward!

We all value a beautiful face.
This magazine just helped me apply the magic of make-up to my 44 year old face. A face that has seen better days and that will gather more history that may or may not be interesting to those who greet me. Because isn't a face an introduction? Doesn't it tell us Right Now whether a person is desirable? Well, I wanna play! So I pamper the face. As my daughter and I say in unison, "Make-up is my friend"

And like all of us, I struggle to drop out of the game. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being shallow. I'm tired of shallowness. So I do my best and forget the rest.
I've been working on a poetry zine for Freedom Day. It's a mild publication of a heavy subject. I worry that it's not attractive enough. Will people buy a copy?
I made an art quilt to show on Freedom Day. What will they think? Is it pretty? Does it look good? Why do I need it to?
I think I need it to because we value beauty. Often beauty comes from a mixture of grace and pain. And we value the coating of beauty rather than the essence of beauty. I struggle with it.
I have been praying for courage lately. I ask all my friends to pray courage for me. It takes courage to value essential beauty, the kind that is of substance rather than a passing glance. I think of Henri Nouwen who studied the Rembrandt painting for a year as the copy hung in his office. Out of his long gaze came a fruitful insight.
The value of a face is the value of the life it invites us to love.
Love, Come to us and deepen our love of Beauty.

My Body is a Cage

Have you heard Arcade Fire's Neon Bible?

Oh my.

..."set my body free
... set my spirit free"