I wanted to write,
so I began to scratch some ink from this pen in hand:
Drinking coffee late at night;
Odd angled photo’s in black and gray and white;
Rough music that resounds well;
The things that make my personal hell;
Language used to think in dreams
and smoke that floats in vaporous streams-
This is the stuff of my poetries art;
these, and the like, stir my heart.
But will I write beyond the limit of “aspiring to be”
and into a reality of hunger and need?
I debate the point with in my self-
I haggle and argue until all that is left
is some stupid notion of an act
of perfect words flowing in the first draft.
(yet even here I pause to edit)

Where are the books hidden inside this man’s frame? Why do I fumble over theological words and works when my faith’s articulation comes best in conversations with lesbians, in smoke filled bars, when the imbibing of alcohol leaves me to stager?…”

“I wanted to write,
so I began to scratch some ink from this pen in hand:
Drinking coffee late at night;
Odd angled photo’s in black and gray and white;
Rough music that resounds well;
The things that make my personal hell;
Language used to think in dreams
and smoke that floats in vaporous streams-
This is the stuff of my poetries art;
these, and the like, stir my heart.
But will I write beyond the limit of “aspiring to be”
and into a reality of hunger and need?
I debate the point with in my self-
I haggle and argue until all that is left
is some stupid notion of an act
of perfect words flowing in the first draft.
(yet even here I pause to edit)

Where are the books hidden inside this man’s frame? Why do I fumble over theological words and works when my faith’s articulation comes best in conversations with lesbians, in smoke filled bars, when the imbibing of alcohol leaves me to stager?…”

I love coffee. I have been told that I am borderline passionate about it (once someone described me as a coffee swigging, poetry reading and writing kind of guy). The taste, the smell, and the atmosphere it creates… these things stir my mind and warm my soul; these things help me to think.

I have had a fair amount of coffee these past two weeks, and it has been paired with even more thinking. I spent a week in Washington visiting my Love and spending time reconnecting with my Divine Lover. I have not been reading blogs, commenting, or writing posts… I have been sorting through my own thoughts, my own emotions, and what I hear the Bible telling me about God and salvation. It has been a good time, and very necessary. Read the rest of this entry