I reckon I’m old and out of touch
it usually doesn’t bother me much
until a headline catches my eye
and I think, “who’s that? why did they die?”
or “who’d they catch now, in a lie?”
then I wish that I had wings to fly
over the rainbow, or to Neverland,
where things are easier to understand
evil wears a simpler disguise
and beauty comes as no surprise


I can not claim to be
anything but a mess
it may be my only
unqualified success
I wouldn’t even want to
hazard a guess
as to how many times
my little heart’s been blessed

I don’t mean any harm
I’m just marginally aware
of hundreds of things
that other people care
about, and it often
bites me on the derriere
even though it’s my own fault
it makes me want to swear

Just a creature of habit
many of which are bad
loyal to the traditional sins
our ancestors had
if it was not available
to my grandpa or my dad
I leave it to the younger set
No one ever called me “rad”

Not really a bad guy
just not good for much
this 21st century
has me feeling out of touch
I keep stumbling along
not looking for a crutch
though I wouldn’t mind some answers
if you could call them such

The Dry Spell

The dry spell may reveal
some forgotten truth
some suppressed memory
of your youth
it may show an error
in the way
that you live your life today

Too many voices
whisper in your ear
for anything they say
to be very clear
confusion about what’s lost
and what’s left to gain
their dependence on
the chances for rain

When Life creeps back in
to the abandoned space
we get a renewed sense
of the underlying grace
insisting that there can
be no surrender here
no matter the odds
no matter the fear
our job is to try
to persevere

This Union

The fabric was torn in 2013, but you can’t unplay a symphony. The echoes have a mind of their own.

At one time, perhaps,
this union
was the casually tentative alliance
of two vaguely kindred spirits,
Lewis & Clark of the soul
in search of Emotional Passages.
Perhaps two dancers engaged in defining
the parameters of a certain joy, bodies
working in pleasantly passionate harmony
with the understanding that the contract
would last as long as the music.

We began to generate our own music,
and threads of experience became this
tightly woven tapestry of a rich history which
continues to blossom growingly each day, our
simple melody evolving into the symphony of
this Union.

Showing Up

When your heart is in exile
remembering when to smile
might be one of
the problems that you face

Trying to act normal
when you don’t know
what normal is
you might prefer to vanish
without a trace

but we keep showing up
and going through the motions
in the usual strangely
familiar places

Hoping and fearing
for the mask to be stripped away
a return to the light of day
and the state of earthly grace

Beyond the Clouds

The sky seems bluer beyond the clouds
after the shower has cooled things down
making it easier to breathe the air
and imagine that we have no cares

heat and worry may return tomorrow
for now let’s relax and enjoy the show
God puts on to soothe our hearts
when we really need His art.