a psalm

tell me, You,

with your hills and valleys

your deserts and difficult streams

what music is there

in these maddening machines

these serpentine silences

tell me, Secret i'm not

privy to, slogging through

my ventricles, what art

is in this artifice ? what

is the reason for facing

everything but your Face

i wait not patiently as-

well. i wait 

and in return i return 

and turn

and twist

and far off is a sea

where You spoke

and i wish to dream 

myself there

where

where 

Where

i sit i cry out i open

quiet quiets me

and i wait 

still

Breathe

Opening my eyes in meditation
I see a broken lamp,
or what seems to be.
With eyes like mine
one can never tell.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Still, there is breathing.

Across the street
the better tended field is green.
I don't know what it is for,
but it's green defies the winter.
And I stand in brown and pale yellow.

Breathe out. Breathe in.
You are breathing still.

As I head toward home,
I see a sky that rained last night
and will rain again.
It won't be Hell, nor Heaven.
But it will be water.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Until you are still, breathe.
Until then, find the stillness.
Until God finds you, breathe.