Monday, November 19, 2012

For A Future Win'try Day:

For A Future Win'try Day:

Don’t cry for me when I am gone
I’m off to dwell in better planes
Where pain and strife and envy cease
And love and living go aeons on

My native land with golden sand

With people who I know I’ve missed
Ten trillion souls I comprehend
(Yet did not then with eyes below)
These all will greet me with a kiss

From country roam to going home

It is my place, this heavn’ly field
And filled with green, in all degrees
Of God’s own hammers, sounding halls
My mote and dust will be annealed

To traveling sail and parting veil

Don’t yearn for me, you left behind
And wail in ashen dreary dreams
My rooted clay so lodged and left
Must stay and sleep, but not my mind

This place feels new, yet presque vu

I’ve gladly set my broken dreams
Aside like linen, old and stained;
This new cloth finger’d with a smile
Such stunning starry flaxen seams!

Then waiting day, tho slim delay

I’ll wait and work with God’s own gold
(the real kind, found in human souls)
As each gloss’d fire returns to Him
I’ll do this work, and won’t grow old

So freed from time, and loos’d of rime

And tears we’ll shed when joined again
When you too make this pleasant land
By sailing through the darkened shroud
To dock and leave the blessed main!

Safe harbor made, and kept and stayed

Your gold will then be back with God
And yours and mine with all of His
To ne’r be spent in rolling roads
The race of man no more to plod

Reunion sweet, angelic fete

So dry these tears you shed today
Ours is a moment so detach’d!
And soon you’ll turn and I’ll be there
To clasp and go no more away!

-JRB    11-19-2012

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

My Psalm, April 24th, 2012

God of my secret soul
Shelter my holiest hopes~
That as storms of life condemn,
And shake the bulwark side
(and I trembling within)
Forget me not!

God of my yearning soul
Guard my anxious mind~
That as the tasks of life mire
And cast me from my craft
(and I on the beach)
‘Member my soul!

God of my muted soul
Captain of my inward parts~
That as plots of wicked men,
To sink both bark and span
(and I making for harbor)
Keep lit Thy light!

God of my disquiet soul
Architect of joy and pain~
That as the toils cumulate
And precipitate great weight
(and I with trembling limb)
Strength to mine arms!

God of my murmuring soul
Chef Cornerstone of all~
That as my days prolong
And year and year redouble
(and I with weakened age)
‘Turn to thy breast!

God of my hard won soul
Author of Celestial spheres~
That as thanatopsis arises
And dust, sleep shaken from eyes
(and old man, new again)
No more to lie!

-Jay

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Untitled

Sometimes feelings are simply
too big for us to handle
and washing across us,
(emotive wave, so linked to the moon!)
we weep

Laughter turned to tears
or uffish thought spawned by scent
mem'ry of taste or sight or smell~
(perhaps a song'll do it to us)

Taking us back to something missing
(some object lost in youth?)
or a tingle felt
when someone long gone
intimates our thoughts with longing

(Why so? Why this ache?)
Are we really just dust?
and these rivers on which our boats
catching momentary views on sweeping bends,
merely the itch one feels for a missing limb?

The tears you shed tonight
(the ones which you felt were too big for you)
laughter breached by lamentation
are just the pushings of your pith
testing the sides of it's earthy container~

So laugh! and cry
and stare off into space
talk to yourself, confide in you
(be a true friend to your own secret self)
God inhabits that same inward space

That space needs no careful hidings,
no bravery of tinkling ornaments,
(or cauls, or crisping pins to prop up!)
'tis one where only that bearded Father
and you can couch, and vouch as safe

Jay
3-26-12 @ 23:12

Monday, March 05, 2012

Journal Entry

Today marks less than a week to the five months mark in my current role. Five months! My, how time flies by.

Missouri is starting to feel more and more like home. Melissa is homeschooling our kids, we are going to church regularly, we have callings, and work is busy. We are actually replacing the furniture and odds and ends bit by bit which we sold pre-move. We sold a lot of stuff all those weeks ago.

The funny thing I realized with this move was that I had harbored a lot of fears about moving, about a new place, about being an oddity and a minority, about being away from family. Skype, and email and phone calls all help supplant lack of family contact, and are very nice to assuage the longing for a hug with said loved ones. The fears of moving and relocating are ones that can only be addressed by doing. Like the metaphorical monster under the bed, the specter of moving reared it's ugly head at me for years, and I cowered back at its supposed fury, cowed, determined to remain in my place, afraid.

Moving has been a blessing. Melissa and I have grown in ways we never expected. Yes, a few gray hairs have sprouted, but they are supposed to. Melissa's hide in her blonde locks, but mine show up like beacons in my dark hair. These highlights are won by walking through life's paths, determined to see the end of the trail.

I am excited to start planting a garden. Melissa and I will do the planter box thing this year, and have a few good ideas to start. We are a bit premature, being March 5th and all, but the odd weather patterns are waking things up a wee bit earlier than normal, and our minds move to spring, due in a few short weeks (Vernal Equinox, March 20th) and dwells on resuming daylight savings time (spring forward, March 11th @ 0200).

I have been working out regularly since Christmas break: motivation finally tipping after seeing my slim younger brother Dan after he *dropped* 35 pounds by riding an exercise bike 45 min a day. Way to go Dan-o! I have dropped next to nothing (but I do like to eat). I am however taking the stairs, running on the treadmill, and lifting. My fat is coming off slowly, and my muscle mass is notably enhanced. I shall continue.

I have been reading a lot of books lately: fiction, how-tos, and of course a lot of news online.

I have been working on my suburban (full transfiguration delayed by repaying some significant loans to get us here to MO), door seals, roof rhino lined, strike bolts replaced, etc. I hope to get it painted and the motor rebuilt this year, among other things.

And so I will leave you for now. Life is full and busy. I thank God for my blessings, and for my family.

-Jay

Thursday, February 23, 2012

My God!
what examples in
my father, my stepfather, my grandfather(s),
sirs who went and did
despite~
and stayed their courses
perhaps not so nobly as by astrolabe,
but plotted by some hidden distingue.
admittedly, most days slip by for me
toiling moments roiling on in their march
'till I look up all of a sudden
and peer back at ten and fifteen years
which should feel close enough to touch,
Spderweb of time.
Father, do you still feel thirteen, betimes?
do you wake for sleep and reach for a bedtable
years and years gone?
Oh! the stars must chuckle at we(e) little ants
scurrying so quickly with the ebb of elan
here and gone before we know it.
outline in me oh God, the stars:
that even as I go about my daily tasks
make this little bit of clay I am
not leptonic in my interaction
but firm in my resolve
silent keeper of distinction

-Jay 2-23-12 @ 20:16

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

untitled

trees complete
but their games are slow
not so slow that the mountains note them
but slow enough that a man
notices, barely.
in my back yard
a japanese elm and an engelman spruce
grew along another in one such games:
the elm, with its drooping tresses
lashed the bristle pine
in the wind
year after year
'till the elm was so bent
trunk so broken
it had to be replaced with a stump
the spruce, majestic on one side
and looking pecked on the other
(as a hen would be, fresh from her winter coop)
remains.
strange contrast,
One stiffly still standing
the other, too motile for its good.
I note the space and denuded branches
but also that
the spruce is no less majestic
in its misshape
despite the years and wear,
the victr'y to the strong endurer

-Jay 11-2-2010
untitled

The crickets are now subdued
and like the stalwart few after
a concert
or a movie at the theater
still there
still there
still there
their voices and silence
are pregnant clouds in a cool cool air
expectant vapors.
I note them, with a
a chill too cool for my shorts and bare feet
yet my soles mark another season change
'tis thirtytwo I've seen and
I want more
still here
still here
still here


-Jay 10-23-2010
untitled

the smell of night
with its cool cool dreams
speak darkness and mystery
vision and silence
each discover'd atlantean breath spilling
out in liquid cold waves
so crashed, so crashing.
so love the night, all nights,
cool awareness of that dark
soft curving hips of the moon and
sweet mystery of stars.
night reminds me of her
her scented breath the skies,
her curves the moon
her eyes the orbs of heaven.
oh summer, oh winter, oh spring!
these languid coolnesses
and my supine soul

-Jay 10-5-2010
untitled

it always seems to be the
little ones who take ill
when the weather changes.
and late nights
and very early mornings
awake with fever:
too warm bodies
labored breathings
and congested coughs
symptoms all adding up
to one or two miserable children.
it's rainy mornings
like today
which help me realize that all
is in God's hands~
rainy nights and sick children

-Jay 10-6-2010
untitled

the crickets sing in daylight
fall, hinting the air
their paean, their swang song
urgent now
sensing time is short
and winter so soon
I note them all around me now
as I walk under dark trees
cycling the cooling streets
no longer solely the vocal inhabitants of night
now they sing all hours:
time precious
time precious
time precious

their now ne'r ending call

-Jay 9-13-2010
untitled

Fugue for me, a fugue
and when gone
this epitath:
My mote transfigured!

-Jay 8-6-2010

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Viridian Derivative

he was a transcendental traveler
enjoyed the audience of stars
his mind went on vacation
an out-o'-body trip to Mars

'The gas trees bloom right now on Venus
in the solst'ce of the year'

he wore occidental khakis
on the beach while sipping beer

He would flash and wax poetic
of these places n'ver seen
swearing truth and TRUTH t'gether
construct'd entirely new means

'tho his mind has slipped completely
and that fiction had evolved
there was peace behind his glasses
his earthbound problems had been solved

I left him with is ramblings
his toes flirtin' with the sea
and I fled to solid reasoning
back to life, to earth, to me

Pr'haps he's still there statuestanding
in cenotes of space and time
his book-stuff'd pockets bulging
and a corona, and that rim perch'd lime

-Jay 8-3-2010 at 0001
Untitled

'twas a midnight burrito
with a scoop of icedcream
that i inhaled with gusto
and promoted odd's dream

Whoa! The weird and silly
so mined up from my gut,
now how wondr'us the trees then
later t'sprout from this nut!

-Jay 8-2-2010 at 21:55
How Beautiful The Feet of Him

I saw a man
with beautiful shoes today
and I wondered at them
if the shit hits the fan
will boiled Italian loafers
taste good?
I'll pass on the Gucci footwear,
thanks.
and work, antlike,
against the coming
winter

-Jay 8-2-2010
To Move Sideways

I hide in my pearlescent husk,
a mormon
the new guy
the one who doesn't yet understand the dynamic.
my silent thoughts in self defense
and
I feel my grip on this role slipping
eeling past me
rolling onto another, were I not careful~
yet
I've got miles to keep
and promises before I sleep.
Ope thou mine eyes and mind,
prick my heart,
touch life to my dumb tongue
fluid words in their flow
(which now feels so numb, so cold!)
coax this crab oh Lord
from that small jealous shell
to discard it for another nautiloid!

1-12-2012 at 14:43

-Jay
Untitled, 5-11-2010 at 0902

liquid light this morning
reflected back from verglas pools
the biting air and stillness
fitting partners to my morning ride
into work
it's rained for thirty-six hours
and
thoughts of sun and shade
are hid by banks of fog
mountains shrouded
dampened quietly in the mist
thank you for fenders and goretex Lord:
for rain and contrast,
for the sting of exertion,
for my bikeride into work this morning

-Jay

Thursday, January 05, 2012

Untitled, 11-15-09

we people, divided by death
so isolated by time
just past three generations
I'd not know you in a line

and yet I feel a something
that our diversion is illusion
(but thrice told so by the market)
I stumble in confusion

no, listen. believe.
time is but mere construct
and observance, mortal man!
it feigns to erode, destruct

and so lonely, melting stone
moving mountain into sea:
our mere drop of observation
is simply the bit we see

God's road is everlasting
His scope from span to span
tautening the world and universe
and across the hearts of man

-Jay

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

Untitled, 10-16-09)

How disoriented we must be!
we earth locked, after this sphere
our entire plane changed
color, light, taste, sound
all our senses tied to that orb
and newborn again
thrust into a more astral existence
made light, made fire,
crystal fire and coruscant burning
oh soul!
soul so newly torn from body
thrust into afterlife
bone and sinew separated from spirit
how like an infant we then feel,
seeking a parent to clarity
to orient and hold us
teach us to walk again (in that sphere)
reorient, clarify, direct--
if 'twer not for a loving God
who knows beginning from end
(all variations on His theme)
we'd be lost
sailors in the shell
rudderless in space!
motherless child in a faceless crowd
yet orientation must be:
we earthborn, new in that sphere
a new plane
new color, new light, new taste, new sound

-Jay
Hullo Visitor!

I am mining my journal (a black 8 x 7 moleskine) for some of my poetry from the past 26-ish months. I have not posted them here before, and do so in attempt to remove the bushel from my lit candlestick. Read on, and if you like anything, please comment

Regards,
Jay