[as yet untitled]

Yes, for you,
the unknown wound,
the Achillean ankles,
the unhinged hips...

Blessings born on lips
that kiss and curse,
from a heart that hopes
and hurts and hangs

in balances unseen,
for dances undefined,
the benefit of the damaged
and the faithful,

but I don't see those things.
I see You, holy, aweful,
Arms outstretched, bleeding.
I am and I am not afraid.

I am small. I am a sinner.
I am a wanna-be saint,
servant, songless, seeking.
You have the answers,

the questions, the panacea,
the proper password and key--
I keep hoping for clarity,
and sometimes I receive.

* * *
I bled all the way across campus,
once the wound opened,
but no one saw it. Water leaves
no trace on a Southern day,
unless it's raining...

Today the shun is signing,
and the tock is clicking,
and my ache is hearting...

up and down go the keys
as fingers fly and words blur
on electronic paper,
and the rats on the printer
point to me...

point to me...

the cursor points the write way,
and I give up on knowing,
and let it all happen to me,
bleeding, bells, and sleep...

---
05.05.05
MWL