A poem on the edge of a new year

Upon the Board

Expectation in suspension

This is the hovering, the inhalation

The sips of certainty drowned by torrents of wonder

How impervious now to failure we think we are

Surely this will be executed with no splash

A pike, a double twist, and abundant prayer

Fervent at every breath of every waking moment

And catching in the apnea of evening during precious minutes of sleep

A longing moan for More of the Lord Our God

Fill the spaces scourged of joy

Smooth the scars jagged and wary

Grant us peace in our day and

In thy mercy keep us free from sin

Except the mild ones we crave

Let’s have a few of those from time to time to laugh about and smile

And only tell those few whose eyes will twinkle

While You wonder if we ever read Paul’s letters and You know full well we did and that we believe so earnestly in salvation that we think it’s probably okay

And what is sin anyway and

Isn’t everything kind of a sin anyhow and

It was like that when I got here

And thank You for Your love or

Surely there’s a place for me in hell right next to Henry Miller & my

Punishment is having to listen to him recite his own

Awful books

For eternity

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