On the way

God will meet me on the pilgrim way 

Pilgrimage to his face 

Sun never setting

Love never relenting

Fearless intrepid adventurer 

is not what it feels like, 

it’s what I am, what I'm doing. 

I'm on the way. 

He makes my rough places a plain

Seeds of chaos bloom

and there is no rest

Cut off from self,

I'm stuck

who will bring me back to me? 

Not how it's supposed to be 

This is ruined 

I wrecked it

or was I wrecked?

The weary victim/hero/villain.

Fear and trembling

overwhelm/peace

dark/light

chaos/order

fill me, flame me, restore me. 

Retracing trajectories
holding tightly
(held)

I can't ungrip your grip

because I'm not in control
But I'm lit
from a fire within
and without. 

My name, my joy

Leaping in yet untasted streams  

Alive in beauty 

Being known

to myself,

to God,

to others. 

Such a beautiful garden 

Each flower, precious

unique and special to the gardener

planted, tended

nurtured,

pruned. 

Growing,

together. 

Honoring Carmela (Only love)

You've known her presence all your life,

she carried you inside her,

breathing as one. 

Too few the moments- watching your daughter smile as your mother held your grandson, 

four generations,

together.

Words are not sufficient to bridge 

the chasm of loss;

only love can do that.

The love of God poured out like a mother-

sacrifice. 

She is forever held in the arms of God, 

in your memories, 

in our hearts; 

Honoring together your precious mother Carmela. 

Bombardment

Hurling toward an unknown end, 

skidding without brakes/bracing 

for catastrophic fallout. 

Rumors of financial collapse 

of the interconnected chains of supply

global economy; bye-bye.

Do we spend or save

buy or sell 

how do we eat- how do we live? 

How to prepare for the future-

overwhelming bombardment 

arrows of fear wounding.

Scaffolds and waves

Ricocheting,

looming over me. 

Survival is simple

but .... accustomed to comfort,

access, and ease. 

Vanishing Familiarity. 

So I request wisdom to foretell 

and dismiss the hindsight shame.

To harbor hope

to believe with hope

surrendering my control.

Trusting 

an unknown future 

to a known God.

Don’t stop remembering

The memorial is tended, with love and tokens are curated because it is a physical way to pour out the loveangergriefconfusionsorrow we are collectively carrying. I made my pilgrimage to visit the historical landmark identified on Google Maps as 3343 Portland which is where you told him you weren’t mad at him, but he didn’t believe you and in fear and power he memorialized your name as a symbol of resistance against tyranny. It is not good, to be a martyr and make a widow and orphans. But it is good to remember and write poetry and try to pray. Maybe God smelled like fermeldehyde and was a fad to this dear poet, but the God I know is weeping here with me as one who was also killed at the whims of empire, the God of embracing the immigrant and poor and forgotten no matter what what has been plagiarized. The painted rocks and posters, embroidery and artwork, they’re all prayers, don’t forget and don’t stop remembering.

A question about an alternative future

 Do believers in Jesus really care about envisioning a better future?

The podcast of Michael Mezz and Heather Plett/Holding Space are having this conversation. 

But are believers? 

My favorite quote pre-Jesus was "be the change you wish to see in the world" Ghandi- and then I got "freed" from the slavery of work's righteousness, guilt and shame of never doing enough to make the world better/save the world. Jesus saved the world so I don't have to. 

And I still believe that, but now, I want a hope for a better future. And I don't know what my faith is saying about that. 

I need an alternative story, Lord. 

As the bombs drop. 

As the poor suffer. 

As we ignore the pain and buy more. 

Why [it takes so long]

It takes so much longer than I think it should take. 

Completing a task, as on the way to the kitchen I'll do pick up the brush and throw away the accumulated cat hair, followed by loading the dishwasher, returning to my desk, then going back to fill the cup I began with.  

Or making a new habit, paving these important neural routes in my brain to into routine. 

Or de-cluttering, re-organizing, all the accumulated hand-me-downs and inherited things that hold deep meaning and significance. 

Or loving someone, which often begins with taking a breath before I react defensively, or noticing and tending to where I'm feeling pain. 

Why, in this rushed life, am I still so slow at learning and doing what is right. 

What if these missteps are the way, and it is taking exactly as long as it needs to take. 

Slow down, love, and walk, one foot at a time. 

More alive

The February sun is drooping to the horizon like a heavy rind, 

Radiating like a bubbling pot of pumpkin stew,

The golden flicker between the black silhouette of trees

It radiates at an angle so that the snow becomes a blue more like water

More alive.

The sun looks so close and potent, not in the hazy distance, but near and reachable

If I could pluck it up between my fingers, it would drip like flaming honey on my tongue.

Like trees

One day we walked by the shores of the Mississippi together, in the sand by the downed cottonwoods and remains of bonfires. The river that’s still flowing, partly frozen, today, passed the broken hearts, the angry souls, the confused, the disconnected, the fearful. I’m remembering the strength of the river that’s remains but is new and ever changing. May Minneapolis (its people) receive the strength needed be like trees, planted by this river, resilient and watered and growing regardless of the weather. May justice flow like waters. 

The machine

I didn’t have a machine write this

Who can Right this?

I wrote this

I wrote this on a machine: 

but it was not filtered through the machine

Rage against the machine/the institution/the system, 

Are we separate or a part of it? 

Like snow

I want to let you go, like snow

Let you melt and flurry, be compactable or slurry, whatever you need to be 

I want this friendship, long and enduring 

Though I grieve the distance 

Can I accept these conditions?

Let them be,

Like snow 

A story of Evergreen

"Jackson, can I tell you about a Christmas miracle?" asked Auntie Bev.  

"Yes, yes, please! I do like stories" He responded, clasping his hands and rocking back and forth on his bottom. His brother Ollie was laying the floor next to him, stacking blocks. His little brother Theo was mostly putting the blocks in this mouth. 

"Before either of you were born, your parents celebrated their first Christmas together. They kept your mother's tradition of spending the weekend after Thanksgiving decorating for Christmas. They made the pilgrimage to a tree lot with their friends and brought home the perfect tree to their St. Paul apartment.

Now this was a sturdy tree, and right away they placed it in the tree stand with water so the needs wouldn't dry out and fall and make a mess on the floor. They decorated the tree with love and care, ate fresh baked ginger bread cookies and enjoyed classics like John Legend's Christmas."

"So what was the miracle?" Jackson asked, confusion knitting his brow. "That's what we do every year!" Ollie nodded and yawned. Theo drooled. 

"Well of course. But this year, there was a special inheritance from Great-Grandma Spangler; an industrial humidifier. This gift released gallons of mist into apartment's dry December air, and with that rainforest humidity, the tips of the spruce started sprouting lime green growth! 

Growth from a dead ol tree? Well yes sir, that is what happened. And that's the Christmas miracle! Because God can bring life in places we think are dead, and He is always working to show us how much He loves this world" replied Auntie Bev. 

"Oh, okay. But now I have an idea...let's eat cooooookies!" Jackson squealed, and he hopped up on his little feet and ran to the kitchen, Ollie racing him all the way, followed by Theo, and when Auntie Bev finally caught up with them, they enjoyed a scrumptious treat. 

The empire and your body

When you put your body in front of the empire, 

You may loose

Your wife may hold your dying breathless body

So she's covered in your blood 

From three shots, the shattered windshield pieces 

Creating a red and sparkling mosaic 

So she kneels down, in the yard,

Her clothes staining the snow 

And the terror of this moment has cleaved you from her 

And her from you

Marrow and breath; there is nothing left. 

This cleaving is not new, many have been privileged before you 

To meet the Empire's bullets fired in self-defense

Necks knelt on in self-defense

Unarmed teenagers shot in self-defense

Children with toys shot in self-defense

Women in their bed shot in self-defense 

The empire will defend themselves with your body 

The empire will always defend themselves.

Hopes for bloodless months

And I want to hope it won’t be blood 

As my body rumples with softness and tearing, clenched and tense 

After finishing the last course of antibiotics from our last try, lost 

Aren’t you tired of trying, weary of counting syllables and diminutive sounds, the charting, the appointments 

Articulated prescriptions, fatigue blanches the balance. When will my body be well? 

Absolutely. I don’t know. 

Hope Triplet

Evil scans
For hope to steal, come

Renew life

The world gasps

For hope like air, come

Lord Jesus

My life cries

For hope like bread, come  

Savior, fill 

Our hearts thirst

For hope like water

Come, afresh

---- 

Joy shines in darkness, 

His presence renews my joy,

my soul is drawn to Him. 

When I feel the weight of evil 

and see the enemy's hatred and rage; 

His joy remains my strength

-Bruce S. 

Advent 2025

My Faith is weak
A candle nearly snuffed out
I need a living flame,
A body to encourage me.

Oh, come, Savior
This Advent I need
And from that need a child of hope is born in me
Again;

The Everlasting One
That I know that I know
I have sought this before /here you come again /rescuing with your love

Haikus of hope

Heightened, holding a 

Tentative taut twine of hope 

Clutching, releasing

--

Cautious steps

Of hope, fear hovers;

Fragile bloom

---

Disappointment is

A heavy burden of grief 

Sad futility 

--

Feeling the 

warmth of sunshine; a

moment's gift 

---

Transformed by

Inviting changed mind

Surrender

River remembrance (2024)

I'm by the river

One bridge of lit concrete,

One bridge of light, 

The reflection, a false

Horizon.

I'm alone here

Maybe just where I'm supposed to be.

-----------------------------------------------

Murky stank, but you can't 

Smell it in the pictures of the moon peaking, the river's cadence...

Faded intent, sad gleams, 

I've got so little in me 

its an instinct, a response.

Incredible, the support, 

I should have taken a picture.

If Dick could have seen that... 

so many turned up. So many cared.

Even when you were hard to be around, sometimes- 

Still, the river drifts on.

I am calmed, I am 

Claimed. 

Sure recommendations for a one day at a time life

I don't recommend wanting

or hoping

because you're sure to be disappointed

but I also don't recommend numbing

or giving up

because you're alive and made for living

what is there to do? 

One day at a time 

Moment by moment 

Grieve

             Share

                            Cry

Hold yourself in a cocoon of compassion

One day at a time 

Moment by moment 

Daily dose of sunshine 

Deep breaths to fend off the doubts and fear 

One day at a time 

Moment by moment 

Being present to the thoughts, feelings and emotions in your body 

One day at a time 

Moment by moment 

Twenty years - you betcha!

A blooger, a blogger, a booger 

Almost the 20th anniversary; two decades of writing these occasional inspirations 

Overflowing to the modern outlet, the cacophony estuary of the internet 

Inspired by a professor assigning extra credit if we "try out this new medium" 

And does it still stand? Yes, and no, 

We've got X and Insta, Youtube and TikTok and whatever is coming next, 

We've got to communicate that's the thing

Cave walls, tablets of stone, papyrus, printing press, newspaper, mail, electronic mail.... 

We've got to share to be alive, even if it's just with ourselves

We live in glory days, my fingers funneling focus (fragmented) - ciphering it through code into HTML into the world. Why a glory, what a mystery, 

Here we are- 20 more to go?