Let there be a holy kind of noise; Let the truth be set on fire in words. May the meditations of my heart Be pleasing in thy sight, my patient Lord Of hosts and hearts and headstrong, bloodwashed saints, And let the joy of taking breath ring out. No lifeless…
Breathlessly awaiting your return Expecting you to boldly make a move, And saddened when my expectation's crushed Because it casts a light of doubt on love. Inspire me--I cannot step out first Without the simple trust that you'll come too. Sweep me away with rolling tides…
That art has held the hope I thought unseen Transcends my first unbroken view of life. Its breath transpires through words and scattered light, Held forth beyond my reach while I contrive. But if I strive with art and hope and light It holds at bay the dark, lethargic sleep;…
Drunk on chocolate-- (bubble wrap, Escapist fiction, once a nap) And in denial, old while young Tangled up, immobile, sung Somebody else's song, all wrong. January, strangely warm Curled up in empty dorm. So enlightened in four years; Loss of innocence, it sears The heart like frost can…
In a rush of inadequate feelings and words, A flood of sour lemon and cold, Lies a tangle of tormented, good-natured doubt: Presented, marked down, and then sold. No big-hearted, sweet, good-intentioned attempts Make up for inadequate pauses. No desire to bear the burdens of friends Can ease pain, set…
Heretofore the world has understood All beauty to be purely seen, described. No word can give a subject flesh and blood; No written sound vivificate, ignite. Ascribe to art the power to convey His work into our hands: we redesign. Kiss the world with fingertips in gray And capture colors…
And what is art? I ask, for none can say If taste and decadence are just the same For what is baked as much as painted; nay, The culinary art is not mis-named. Thus mastery is relative by art As sweetness becomes relative by form. For who can pick ingredients…
Perfected the art of deceiving myself And learned the pure form of acting a fool, I breathe in and out the filthiest air While I blithely and blindly ignore the first rule. Ah, but perfection cannot be attained. Ah, how it jeers from the sidelines, un-reached. Its mysterious ways entice…