Monday, May 9, 2011


Ezekiel 13:14

The house stands gleaming, but underneath

It’s split, creaking and shaky.

Most walls are shredding from rot

Underneath the smeared whitewash of a false peace,

But no one seems to notice.

The other rooms offend,

But it’s a holy blood that soaks them deep,

Throbbing life into the uncovered filth,

And whispering of future glory

When the age of war is done and the pretty dead walls are broken,

Leaving only the true ones forever –

Monday, May 2, 2011


The dust weeps.

Torrents cannot heal its rending, for

The Curse fingers its way past elements.

All the breathing fight and collapse,

Souls sighing thunder over the state of things.

Grasped pleasures dissolve to cold ash

As time takes and pain shakes

What was only meant for here

And now – in this dismal labor room,

The sweaty, straining City groans loud for

The last re-making.