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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Merry Christmas to the One I Love

Merry Christmas to the One I Love
Merry Christmas to the one I love,
Even on this day of love for all,
Remembering the love of one whose call
Redeemed all those whose hearts his love might move.
Yet only one love does my spirit prove,
Chosen in a passion like a squall,
Having in such ecstasy withal
Rejoiced in what we were created of.
In such love do we find our way outdoors,
So to be drawn to love of flesh and soul,
Traveling beyond our village green,
Moving towards the wash along our shores
As our love joins the greater love unseen,
Shining with dark passion on the whole.

Meaning Is a Measure of Repose
Merry Christmas to my love!
Enjoy the holiday!
Revel where the angels move,
Rejoice in what they say!
Years burn life down to a stub;
Christmas comes and goes.
Happiness lies at the nub,
Refuse of one's woes.
Inside the husk there is the seed,
Shivering with glory;
The midnight cold, the dire need,
Mere setting for the story.
All the labor, loss, and pain
Sings of beauty born again.

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