Categories
Writing

The Adrenaline We Crave

Shaky hands please calm

Upset tum please settle now

But please don’t leave me

Categories
Writing

Lake Michigan Winter Date

Crystal ice like shells

Once we fall through, won’t we freeze?

Scurry back laughing

Categories
Writing

Brings Him Glory

I couldn’t think of something more peaceful to do than sit on the grass in the sunlight and let my warmth and the temperature of the grass come to one stable level. It is even more than touching snow until fingers freeze just slightly. Like flow. The beautiful mornings are given to us by God and the perfect temperature is something set by the Lord. Even when we assume details that please us are too trivial for the Lord, remember that he made it so grass shows up as individual blades instead of one large patch of a waving piece of oxygenated plant. He detailed it so that grass is singular. So I must see the small pleasures as singular—a detail given to me, once again, by our true and living God. Because he is living he can also enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Whenever I feel warm I imagine that the atmosphere is giving me a hug, keeping me close and safe and comforted like a child. When it is cold I want to cry. And then both are love and beauty and detail from God and in all he is righteous.

Categories
Writing

Love Then Lost

All the while we snooze

Sorrow billows, tears…. pillows

‘Tis better to have…

Categories
Writing

Fall

spinning side effects

dizzy, ditzy, heartbeat too

petals in a pile

Categories
Writing

Dry Whenever

No drink for me, thanks.

Oh, why? Just need a break’s all.

Deep breath. That’s better.

Categories
Writing

God’s Mercy

If I had to choose,

Criticism than lashings.

Lashings than to die.

Categories
Writing

Practicing for What?

when the real thing’s far

to loop in my head—our heads

perfect then perform

Categories
Writing

Haiku For You

Suppressed, I yearn still

Perfected a cheesecake too!

Cooled on window sill

Categories
Writing

The First Kill

Didn’t feel as dirty as I wanted it to. Just hunting the deer and understanding the death of the animal… I later on smell metal as I feel the air coming through the grill in the truck. The doe sprawled across the front of my truck is the bloodiest part of my life. All else is peaceful and full of life. The only death is what I hunt.

Categories
Poetry Writing

Futility

resistance is futile.
thinking of us daily
prepared you for me
since before you’d heard
of resistance.
and still
you have wanted it.

Categories
Poetry Uncategorized

Utopia Was Real

Utopia was real
At one time
It was not new
Was not unlikely 
Was deserved
At one time 
Till then, again
Endure this hell