Out of Who We Are Comes Where We Live

Out of Who We Are Comes Where We Live
Out of who we are comes where we live,
No less shaped by spirit than a shell
Yielding to the one imperative
On which all must depend to live life well.
Underneath the word is the desire,
Rembrandt to the image that we see,
New vesting in old verities its fire,
Evangelist for ambient ecstasy.
We choose from somewhere deeper than intention,
Having for such clarity no eyes,
Older than the moment of dimension
Manifest in fast-exploding skies,
Ember of which in that chamber lies.
To a Friend on His Election to the Jersey City Board of Education
Congratulations on your victory
Over those who'd labor in your stead.
Now that you have won, the road ahead
Gives pause: for what good soul-elect can be
Respondent to such need? Or happily
Attendant on such pain? It's often said
That power corrupts, but your audacious tread
Unheard might leave its footprints on the sea.
Little can one do, yet much is asked
As life responds to policy unfazed,
Taking, just perhaps, a hopeful turn.
Intending good, one is widely tasked,
Open to rebuke, and rarely praised,
Needing faith to change, as one must learn,
Scenes on which all helpless long have gazed.
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I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas

I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
I know that lately my love makes you restless,
But it's too hard to spend this time alone.
My love for you is like the Christmas season:
Joyful, yet with knowledge of the end.
My need for you has neither hope nor reason:
If not a lover, please, just be a friend.
Please, just be a friend, and come to me
When all the world is bright with love and song.
You are my pillar and my fantasy,
My earth and yet the sky for which I long.
My need for you, of course, is mine, not yours,
Nor need you answer me but out of love.
This is the season when we open doors
To let in those whose need our hearts might move.
And after Christmas you may go your way
To leave me with my sadness and my dreams.
I have no right to bother you to stay,
Knowing how your heart, unaltered, leans.
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
What you decide, and why, is not my business,
But still for me it's hard to be alone.
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Show Me All the Bounty of Your Giving

Show Me All the Bounty of Your Giving
Volunteers are willing to take risks,
Out-of-pocket for some leisure time,
Letting love and joy dictate the tasks
Undertaken for some modest dream.
No one volunteers but for a vision
That never fits but may oblige the truth.
Each finds some ideal with which to fashion
Emblems of how inner grace is wrought.
Relentless need and hunger rule the world;
So must volunteers sustain the good.
What's the Meaning of a Park
What's the meaning of a park?
Kids can always play.
Park or no park, just a stick
Can put home runs away.
Imagination turns a fence
Into a monkey bars.
Old rusty nails? That's too bad!
And watch out for the cars!
Kids can play tag anywhere:
A parking lot, a street.
A courtyard is a stadium;
A goal line, cracked concrete.
Skinned knees may tend to multiply,
And some kids may get hit.
But only one or two a year;
You'd hardly notice it.
Kids can always get along
In hallways or on stairs.
What's the meaning of a park?
It shows that someone cares.
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