In the Ecstasy of Confession

Lord, use my tears.

     Bless you.

     Thank you.

     Love you dear

for these here

      precious tears.

Love me 

      love me

      love me near.


My dear oh world my alright sometimes bright abyss burst and split wide,

oh oh right open,

this aint a goddamned thing about knowing.

No no, here's going

deep down in the bloody guts of earthheart and dirtworth,

in the place so central that centers themselves go to feel at home,

into the oh-no undone rawness too-far-gone in-the-middle-of-the-sun shit.


Cry, cry, it's tissue time,

but then I rise -

Are you still here?

And how have I impressed upon,

how will I be met anon

by all of you in all this fear?

How has this mere honesty landed 

in the unsettled, shifting, ticking sand of our existence?




moments of bellowed eclipse

then closure



lights out

moon up

day done

next up

then what?

my life

here spent

there gone

then what


I ask:

What will I say

when I ask myself

at the end of my life,

"What would you do

if you could do it all over again?"

What would I say

if I could visit my past

and ask my adolescent soul,

"How then will you live?"


This now all entombed in just the half-hour extraordinary rapture of what would be an ordinary confession amongst peers and yet seems to incarnate an encompassing rage of joy.