Tuesday, February 19, 2013


The demons lurk around me, surround me,
creeping in the darkness,
in the quiet of solitude,
inside me they hide,      
and wait to over-come me.
I run, wrestle, try to escape, to chase them away.
But still they come,
like bad dreams,
the night-mares I have
when I am awake.
Reality comes too close.
I seek oblivion, my refuge.
I pursue it everywhere.
Finally it comes to me,
slips over me like a blanket,
the demons are purged.
Gratefully I rest,
and am safe.


At midnight I sit among my candles and incense,
music and wine, waiting.
I think of you driving in the night,
and I wait for you to come to me.
I hear you at the door, before you are there,
and then you are, and you come inside.
You don’t have to talk, just lay beside me
I hold you and you sleep in my arms.
Every night I wait, every day I wait,
for the day that you need me,
the day that you want me,
the day that you love me,
and I wait for you to come to me.


The word MISSING scrawled beneath the photo-copy of a girl’s picture
on a pole at the corner, a block from the river, in a town that’s empty
on a weeknight in winter at one in the morning.
It is a town where lost and wandering souls go to remain lost.
Where one goes when one is missing and wishes to remain that way.


The rush of blood in your ears
your heart is pounding
jumping from the bridge
or driving fast at 2am
playing chicken with a north-bound train
your head is buzzing
you can see lights out there in the darkness
the rush of death approaching fast
and out of control
the tidal-wave of release
when the danger passes
and your body has flown by
the end at the speed of sound
the sonic boom
still ringing in your ears

Monday, February 18, 2013

magic key

Driving south in the heat, talking to a bearded Hitch-Hiker, I flash on the Lake.
The way we used to fish with balls of white-bread on the ends of our lines.
Quiet on a Sunday morning, while mass was being held in the chapel across the street.
I remember the way our soda bottles would collect sand on the outside,
and some always ended up in my mouth,
mingling with the Coke or Root-beer or Orange Crush.
When we took the bottles back we’d get three pennies,
spent on bubble-gum.
Those bottles needed to be opened with a magic key.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Be Thou my Vision Revised

Be Thou my Vision

(A traditional Irish Hymn, Revised by Diane Awenydd-Evans and Megan Moore)

Be Thou my vision, Oh Lord of my heart,
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word.
Lady I serve thee, Thy voice have I heard.
Thou my great Mother, and I Thy true child.
Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee, wild.

Riches I need not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always.
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
Oh King of creation, my treasure Thou art.

Be Thou my refuge, my comfort, my home,
Be Thou my dignity, be Thou my throne,
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, Oh Lady of all.

Sunday, February 3, 2013



Light the Candles one by one
Cold the Earth, but warm the Sun
Seeds beneath the surface swelling
With the snow-melt, daylight growing
Cold the winds but warm the Sun
Light the Candles one by one
In my heart the fire’s glowing
Winter into Spring is going
Warm the Earth, and warm the Sun
Light the Candles one by one