From a Brother

Something is trying to come to life inside of me. No, not something, but someone, a person. The person is me, but the person is not yet me. That person is not me, but the person is already living in me. The person is beyond me.

I was made to be that person. The person is for me and is meant to be of me, but the person is not from me because that person is not who I am now. That person is who I will be. That person is more than me.

I am Anthony. I am only Anthony. But I will be Anthony because my life depends on it. I will be Anthony because Anthony is going to be a person.

What is it to you? Who am I to you?

The being and the becoming, the life here and the life to come: God has everything to do with all of this. This is all I care about, so I cast my cares onto God. Jesus Christ is God in person, and so I follow Jesus to be, in Christ, a person. Practically, to know God, the maker of my person, and to know Jesus Christ, God in person, I aim to walk in the footsteps of Francis of Assisi, and to walk like Francis of Assisi, who was a consummate person for others.

So that is what it is to you. Who am I to you? A person for you. Your brother, I hope.

This blog is not a diary. It is something else. It is not the place to read about being-becoming a brother. This is where you can read about it.

Call and Response

"My young adulthood is coming to an end." But not your youth.

"I am undertaking an expedition." Ridiculous. You are a moviegoer, and your life is a film festival.

"There is a path, and I see it leads me straight and true." This is no time for tourists. There is a person who must walk straight and true, or there is no person at all.

"A sign of contradiction ... a fool for Christ." And a legend in your own mind.

"There is a book within, and it has got to come out." Aye, ordinary words. What low ambition.

"She said, 'Do what you love.' " Do Who you love. Love does not know What.

"I said, "I will do works of love." Love longs for a human Being.

"O God, come to our assistance." You mean, "O God, come to our insistence."

"God helps those who help themselves." Amen, they already have their reward.

"Healing Spirit, set us free." The free are beyond victory and praise.

"A prayer in distress." Indeed. Hopefully, without despair.

"They're looking for answers." Don't answer. Don't tell them anything. Give them a response.

Untitled

Author's note: This poem was written in May 2008. The electronic document was lost soon after. Thought to have been lost for good, a printed copy was rediscovered recently among miscellaneous papers.

Mary rejoices under sunshine
on a bed of grass
in warmth
with a daydream,

love of lands
beyond the bondage of clammy flesh and chilly blood,
further than your hasty hands of fellowship can reach,
beseeching her to embark again,

to find, to feel, to follow something as smoky as a spirit,
wreathing a few beautiful souls
ringed in glints of burgundy, cream, and gold.

She is moving. I cannot pretend.
We are sitting at the river listening to the hushing water lapping darkly,
and I can also feel the currents carrying her blood.

Hearts open as they close and close as they open,
so that every breath of life may pass into the streams of our bodies
and the exhaustion of death-breaths may pass from them.

Mary lets her joy-kissed happiness come and go to life.
I hold my breath and stiffen. How stupid.

We linger at the table of our last light meal, an indulgence granted.
Write wonderfully, she says --
with beauty and power and meaning, she says --
but I cannot, do not, want to write the stuff of dreams undreamt,
I say with penitence.
Meanwhile, Mary's face takes light,
soft shapes of consolation, forbidding sobriety.
The trick is to inspire. Inspirare. Inspire.

Even accidental gifts set hearts in motion.

Flowers in the Harbor

There are flowers in the harbor
Rainbows flutter in the breeze
As lovely as they are
Would that we had no need of these

Bells ring soft, your name is spoken
Someone prays with a guitar
No one names the spirit here
The spirit isn't what we are

No demons will disturb us here
But we can't stay here in the park
No sooner than we've come
We scatter to the brightness of the dark

Living speak here to the living
No one knows the dead but those who died
If we had half the courage to die as will to kill
The fronts would fall from every side

Women blessed me -- blessed my anger
But they couldn't balm my soul
Priestesses, O can you pray
For prisoners in the endless hole?

Many, far too many, are the faces
Known to me down by the sea
Few, oh, precious few the more
Beyond my count sleep under me

A man of wire flats a bugle
We surrender to the czar
A ransom for futurity
The future isn't what we are

There are flowers in the harbor
Rainbows flutter in the breeze
As lovely as they are
Would that we had no need of these.

Evangeline

Today we've got a way to go
I love it, if you want to know
You're back to life in front of death
I thank the stars with every breath

I saw your face down in your lap
My eyes could blurt, my heart could clap
The track is tricky till the end
Don't ride this train without a friend

You'll never know the hour you're being seen
I'm gonna put us in the movie scene,
Evangeline.

I came to you to make a home
And lived in your inspired poem
To touch your flesh would be absurd
How wise of you to make it word

The sun brings everything to bud
The sun is simmering my blood
You wait inside the cool of shade
It's hard to believe that you were made

You know me, woman, but by other means
We are the strangest lovers ever seen,
Evangeline.

I think we've been this way before
You make me sure of it the more
You smile -- O how my soul would burst
The last is better than the first

The days are turning to the midnight dream
You're gonna rise a precious body sheen,
Evangeline.

The Deaf-Mutes

I need you to forgive me

You can't hear me

I can look at you

Don't want you to

Who are you
Intruding traceless

Faceless

I won't give you

Then I won't see you

Then I'll wait and write about you

And you'll lie too

Show me

I have told you

No you didn't

Stay

No

I'm here

You don't know

Come back

It's too late
I'm gone with a wave

To hell with yesterday
O can't you see what I say

Forgive me

I said give me

A Treasury of Wind

Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you.
I command treasuries of wind.

God will say to me, the dust:
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why do you go mourning,
Oppressed by the foe?"

If you want to become what you ought to be,
Then you better learn to fear your misanthropy.

Sleep through your dreams, and you will wake up to your nightmares.

I want the kingdom of God, not Augustine's seed.
Truly there is no use in crying over spilled milk.

Wait for some things. But for other things, never wait for them again. You are not one in waiting.

Proof is not enough. You must transubstantiate your claim.

Pirate! Whose song are you singing?

"Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!"
It will be done, friend; only sing also for your prey, for you are hunting yourself.

You are not a writer. You are a spy, a mail thief, an interceptor of messages that creative genius intended for other eyes, ears, and minds to receive. The least you can do is become an excellent thief.

"And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?"
Look for the cornerstone, and you will know.

Another night on your own
No urge to go home
Your friends are strangers on the way
On a fast red line
To pull you
Bearing your burdens
Always singing your way into abstractions
Talking about God
Speaking to no God
It's colder than the summer ought to be
I've lost the magic left in me.

On a Cold Beach

Stuck in the step
Between prayer and later
On a cold beach

Painting my feelings
In oils and jams
With picky fingers

Counting up the grains
And down the time
Weathering clay to bone

Some fool wants to silo
The dungy leavings
Of my barnyard mind

Oh, don't you feel so small
When you wave to the bloody sea
On a cold beach?

Nocturne

You've never been depressed
You've never tried to bounce
A concrete ball
Get up or down
Who ever saved a boring frown
Go live on a bridge
Go play in traffic
Fear is a cure for static
He who takes an oath upon a dollar
Will swear upon a dime
The days will come when you're too poor
To spend even time
There's wool to scratch your back
A pillow for your chin
And shaky dreams to put your shaken images in:
Short blond hair
Warm lip cushions
Gravity's living daughter is silently grasping
To pull you under into holy matter
The antiquity of spirituality
The geology of soul
Come, oh, come, boy
Down the caving hole
To the pips of moons
To the frosty air
Windy windy waves of water
Lashing where the squalling storm of baptism never ends
Oh mercy, oh me
See the eunuchs in the street
And they're giving you a chance, too
Buy the beggar's banquet feast
Peopled with people
Symbols that crash like cymbals
And break into fire hear fire dear fire.

Loser's Blues

Lose the blues
They said lose the blues

Heads they win
Blues you lose
Heads they win
Blues you lose

Don't save yer money
Gotta save yer soul
Don't save yer money
Gotta save yer soul

Lose the blues
Lose the blues
They said get the green
And lose the blues

Gotta live for the body
Live for the body
Live for the body
Live what you know
You don't know no soul
You don't know no soul
You don't know no soul

You gotta choose
You gotta lose the blues
You gotta choose
You gotta lose the blues

All I got to lose
All I got to lose
All I got to lose
Tellin' me to choose
What I got to lose
Tellin' me to choose
What I got to lose

Don't wanna, mama, wanna lose the blues
Don't wanna, mama, wanna lose the blues

Done lost a woman
Haven't got a home
Don't got bad religion
My friends are few
Done lost a woman
Haven't got a home
Don't got bad religion
My friends are few

Up come the devil
Say up come the devil
Up jump a devil
Up jump a devil

He say lose the lose
Lose the lose he say
Lose the lose
Lose the lose

Woe-is-a-me-bop
Woe-is-a-me-bop
Woe-is-a-me-bop
Woe-is-a-me-bop

Don't wanna, mama, wanna lose the blues
Don't wanna, mama, wanna lose the blues

Gimme rock cross fire
Dove harp boogie
Gimme rock cross fire
Dove harp boogie

Gonna be a virgin
Soon as you stop touchin'
Gonna stop drinkin'
Soon as you stop pourin'

Boy gonna win no sin all in
Boy gonna win no sin all in
Gonna sin all win boy in
All sin gonna in
Boy gonna lose the blues
Lose the blues
Lose the blues

Why don't you leave me alone
Ain't got a thing of my own

Lose the blues
Lose the blues

Why don't you leave me alone
Ain't got a thing of my own.

89 Degrees

Up, up and under the roof, in sweat and sticky dirt
Getting hard to sleep, don't wanna see that dream
Up eighty-nine degrees, another few might hurt

I don't wanna like you, now love me do
I don't wanna like you, now love me do
Well now, what you said, now what you gonna do

Got your bag in hand, time to turn your cheek
Got your bag in hand, time to turn your cheek
You've been going so long, been standing still for weeks

Ain't a fox or birdie -- where you gonna go
Ain't a fox or birdie -- where you gonna go
Well I will go to the desert, ain't none to lay me low

What's the matter, woman, did you lead him on
Said what's the matter, woman, did you lead him on
They're all drunk in Cana -- the hour's come and gone

Got no use for money, only made me poor
Got no use for money, only made me poor
It's eighty-nine degrees, don't let it rise no more

Hey hey oh my Jesus, how long John be
Said hey hey oh my Jesus, how long John be
It ain't none of your business -- you're gonna follow me.

Apologies for My Desire

We're on the way and up the bend
I'm wondering where these journeys end
We're walking where the water swept
I feel convicted every step

You think that no one calls to me
I know my truth -- now set me free
I'm comfortable in my own skin
You'll never change the shape I'm in

The time we spent was no mistake
We know the turns we have to make
They aren't easy, could be hard
Our roads were made to drift apart

You're gonna do what you will do
I'm gonna go on leaving you
We're wiser when we never meet
Our history must not repeat

I thought I had some more to say
My unborn son just died today
Take back your tablet and your chalk
It isn't right for us to talk

O friend, why is it you require
Apologies for my desire
Of gods and men, to each their own
I'm gonna mount the golden throne

This city ain't enough for me
I'm giving you the city key
I'm soaring up the empty sky
I won't remember how to cry.

Steal My Heart

We prayed until we prayed no more
And dared to say God closed the door
The church is dark this Sunday night
And now I'm fixing for a fight

For longer than I should have done
I used to see you in the sun
The burn is gone, the itch remains
I'm peeling off a layer of pain

My lips are sealed -- I vow they'll never part
You'll never know the ways you steal my heart.

Take my evacuated place
What was a mess is empty space
My soul is cool, my mind a blank
It's you I have to hate and thank

The fight's begun in fleshy towers
Cities rise and fall in hours
I'll see you in a smile that gleams
On summer days, in rainy dreams

I'm watching you -- don't make a hasty start
You better ask before you steal my heart.

I've crucified and raised the dead
A tongue of fire rests on my head
It's time to hope for bigger dreams
I'm going down to New Orleans

Mind, soul, and strength -- you got each lesser part
You're going to have to work to steal my heart.

All the Women Said Amen

You turned a trick on a heart of lead
There's nothing you'd refuse to bless
I should thank you for the charity of this unmade bed
But you know it's all a mess
Take back my roof, my nest, my den
And all the women said Amen.

Today I learned you have a face
Maybe tomorrow I'll look in your eyes
Before you vanish into grace
It's a poor thing to be wise
If I can be a man about it I'll write you now and then
And all the women said Amen.

The light was there before the sun arrived
Take me back, dark wind, to the abyss
Living is the truth that will survive
I believe I can do without all of this
I know I did before, though I can't remember when
And all the women said Amen.

It isn't good to be alone -- I'll be alone with you
We'll make pretend our weakness makes us strong
It isn't very smart, but it's the faithful thing to do
We'll get the hang of suffering before long
Then one day we'll be friends
And all the women said Amen.

For years we beat the path around
Until we doubted and forgot from where we came
Until again what twice was lost was found
Who cares if everything still looks the same
Our accidents we shall transcend
And all the women said Amen.

There's a lot of special people like me
We're the only ones, we can't be one in two
You ask the probability --
Say one in one to the infinite power of you
It's karma, charism, destiny, zen
And all the women said Amen.

Hey Me

Hey me
Don't tempt me
You ought to know what you ought to be

Hey me
Don't mind me
I'm getting smaller and setting free

The me
You can't be
Get out the way or get in me

Leave me
You're lonely
Peddling a false identity

To me
Not to be
Isn't a question -- a malady

Your me
Is sickly
Poorer and poorer -- an effigy

Of me
Lost meanly
Swallowing, choking on destiny

My me
Wants truly
You want a you that wants a new me

Not me
The only
First and the last and ultimately

No me
You could be
Evil is but a facsimile

Hey me
You ain't me
Get out the way and let me be

Hey me
You've lost me
Wide is the mouth of victory.

Three Cameos

Awake while you sleep
He breaks death's dates, and his laughs
Destroy all sickness

Find her in the choir
Singing in the loving tongue
Dancing in rainbows

He doesn't live here
He sweeps the dusty corners
Looking for freedom

Small Coins

Are you giving your life away, or are you merely giving it up? The difference in prepositions is as great as heaven is from hell.

Withdraw, even from withdrawal!

Never, ever call for destruction. All you know how to do is to destroy. Train all your energy and wit on creation, if you have any wit within you.

Out of the sanctuary and into the street. Leaving your church was easy. You have killed your idols. You have murdered your myth-makers. You are a cut-rate Nietzsche. Bravo. Ah, but you refuse to let go of your cherished community (which is really only a cadre), your sacred space (which is only private property), and your precious safety (which is only the surplus of conquest). Leave the fiction of home all together. Out of the sanctuary and into the street. You will not be saved until you are homeless.

Be set free, even from freedom!

"Follow me." There is no escaping it. Everyone has tried, but no one can get before you.

You are a mindless monk and heartless friar. Do not pretend it is otherwise.

Yesterday your church was a gymnasium. Today it is a hospital. Tomorrow it will be an airport.

You don't want friends. You don't want companions. You want brothers. You also want to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

For as long as you run, the horizon does not grow closer. Think instead about how you will ascend. It's either ascend or run aground.

The journey never starts over.

You said you have nothing to left to give. Rubbish. There is pain, anger, sadness, loneliness, and emptiness. Find a way to give those things away. Or have you given up on these, too?

Eggs and Scorpions

I am full of things I cannot say. I am traumatized at the empty tomb.

Now I can answer the singer of the spiritual:
Yes, I was there when they crucified my Lord.
I took his hand.
I nailed it to the board.
I even lay with him inside the tomb.
A cooling, fooling, lifeless, wifeless groom.
But then somebody rolled the stone away.
I panicked at the sight -- alone at day!

The women at the tomb are either the greatest messengers the world has ever seen, or the world's most notorious lunatics.
What? Must it be one or the other?

How terrifying it is to worship a God who is there by being not-there.

This year for Easter -- no eggs for me. I have asked for scorpions, and I shall have them.

God, be silent. Do not speak. You are so cold. Your voice would be like a rush of ice water down the neck, freezing the spine. God, be still. Do not touch me. It would mean paralysis. God, leave me alone. Do not love me. Why do you love me? It will be my annihilation.

It is not the cross that gets me. It is the empty tomb. Not the cross, but resurrection. I do not see a risen Christ in the empty tomb. I see a shadow. God is in the shadow, and God is the shadow. Christ is in the abyss. Mark, that minimalist and psychologist, saw it best.

It is no mere stone that covers the tomb of Jesus. It is a heart. A heart of stone? No, this is a body of stone. And God is the sun, burning cracks into this fine firm heaviness. God will not send the fire. The fire dwells within the petrified body. God will turn this rock into fire and leave nothing but fine glassy sand to be carried ruthlessly into the ecstatic air. Oh, that Pentecost might come very soon and consume every poor charcoal soul!

Mary of Magdala, forgive me. I have scoffed at you and all your daughters. You rouse within me intensely conflicted emotions: awe and ingratitude; desire and revulsion; respect and jealousy. Please accept my confession and grant me pardon.

I believe God is alive, fearfully alive. The presence/absence of the empty tomb makes me question how alive I am -- that is, whether I am truly alive in God. The anxiety lies in doubts about my own presence. Where Jesus has gone, do I dare to follow? Not only to the cross, but also beyond crucifixion?

There is something terrifying about a God who is capable of bringing new life out of death. That kind of God is more than love.

I am full of things I cannot say. I am traumatized at the empty tomb.

Grand Canyon

The man and woman
Smiling at the Grand Canyon
Ring the empty gulf

From the bright plateau
A dread animal's echo
Barking for water

Plummets the canyon
A metallic wave scrapes rock
Two billion years thick

The couple covers
With geologies of uplift
The ancient gorge

The animal sees
The cascading passion
Of breath and running rain

In the dry abyss
Where earth forever swallows
Everybody thirsts.

Behind the Light

All that we blessed has now been broken
We shared the love that shares the pain
It was a picture-perfect world that floated off
Our fingers into air

Here I stand and do no other
All my life I have remained
But now I see you run, embrace the prodigal
And consecrate despair

Mother, O Father,
Why don't you see me grieve
O Mother, Father,
I won't come back if I leave

I've waited for nothing
I waited, but one is one
I'm running behind the light.

What I wrote, has been written
By many hands across the page
Maybe you can burn the book and wash the wall
You can't unmake the word

Mother, O Father,
God was not God for me
O Mother, Father,
God is still haunting me

I've waited for nothing
I waited, but one is one
I'm running behind the light.