Handshake

The hand that grips and strains to hold

In struggle another's palm

Seizing, wresting

As if concord could be won

By a ten-second rule

Pins nothing down

But a bowstrung jaw

And shoulders stripped

Of their grooves

By powertools.

But...

From fluid fingers freely flows

Friendship fast and far

As the rivulet runs down

Easy mountain sides

Sighing,

So too does the sensitive shake

Spread sweet nurture

Through each nook and cranny

Of thy neighbor's reach.

I think I want to go to Oregon University and study Medieval Studies. If not Medieval, then Poetics or Rhetoric. I think I should take a Latin course online during my off-time with CSU.

Here is the reading list for medieval: http://english.uoregon.edu/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/MedievalReadList.pdf

Here is the reading list for poetry and poetics: http://english.uoregon.edu/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/PoetryReadList.pdf

Here is the reading list for poetry and poetics: http://english.uoregon.edu/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Rhet-Composition-SE-Reading-List2.pdf

God, I would really like to have a teaching position - doing something I like. I admit I do not deserve a position like that. I admit I do not need a position like that. I admit I need to learn through the suffering I am currently experiencing. Help me to do so, btw. But, I would really like a position where I can think and study with others. I believe you can give me a position like that. I think the one in NJ would be a good prospect. Help me to treat my current co-workers and clients well. Help me to love them and show them Christ. Help me to work hard. Help me not to be ashamed when I fail. Help me to enjoy my work. Help me to love my graduate classes. Help me to have energy to be engaged, take classes, and work full-time. I trust you to read this and to respond appropriately. Change my selfish heart.

how i wonder

whispered

softly,

darkly

down

unseen

kisses

brush my

brow

stalking

forest,

wading

stream,

sailing

midnight

ocean

gleam

zephyr's

roamings

find in

me

a para-

mour of

twilight

breeze.

When I walk in after my lunch break, it's as though a year has passed. Though little has physically changed, I barely recognize the spirit of the place. There's a moment of awkward scrutiny, as everyone scrambles to remember those by-gone relationships from what must seem like remote antiquity. Then, the kids burst out in simultaneous recognition and joy, consummating our long-anticipated (but never hoped for) reunion. Deniesha outwardly rebukes me by silently and forcefully cleaning every available surface. She doesn't look up as the kids run to me one by one to hug my legs or hang from my waist. Her quick, angry swipes with the slopping rag accuse me of absconding, like a binge-partying father who only sneaks back home, head held deceptively low, to panhandle just enough from his own family's mouth for one more round of drinking and debauchery. I know I'm expected to feel some sense of shame or regret, but I can tell that, despite her outward demeanor, Deniesha is secretly glad to see me. After all, she can now leave the classroom's perpetual chaos to go "plan" in the soft-cushioned chair by the lobby's water cooler.

Cars beneath my window
Push and shove and swerve,
Red hostile lines.

Chrome kids told to "share"
but honk and scream when someone
takes their lane.

Life's no better. Too damn
fast, not wide enough
for two of us.

No one gets to where they want,
Not how they'd like, with mild
Green lights.

Roads like these
You stick her out, fight hard,
and pray the long end's yours.

The Call

Ringtone.
Her whispers fragment on
My ear
Crumbling like last fall's leaves,
Bruised thin.
She sniffles, starts, then stops,
Pleading
Quietly, Forcefully.

Static.
She knows I know she hurts.
But waits,
Reeling back more and more,
Leading.
She sets the hook in guilt,
And pulls
Wearing me down to speak.

"Sorry."

How can you strike the mouth

You feed?

She hungers to hear that word.

"Ok."

And with that short rebuke,

Relieved,

Hangs-up in victory.

I slip beneath a sagging willow

Sweat drains away my strength and will, oh

Break has begun but now the work begins.

The root of my distress is well-known

The fruit of my hard labor's unknown

Straining [grasping] for answers I search among the leaves.

Some boughs are kept in senseless shadow

Reminding me of my short life's woe

Never have I been favored with kind light.

But other branches sport their


Light sun gives they catch and keep and make their own
They do not mourn or wait for better light
But take what each moment the sun gives

8.7.16

Smoothie

Pho soup

Burger, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, corn, beans

Thomas Traherne

Around World Eighty Days

Canterbury tales

HP Lovecraft 

Rhetorical criticism

Soup 5 (with punctuation)

The soup's too thin!

Cabbage, carrots,

Cucumbers, corn,

Slowly fading

Into might've-beens.

Give it substance!

Vegetable

Or animal

Meaning. Perchance,

More than happenstance.

Make it linger!

Zesty deeds

Memorial,

Timeless flavors

Demanding "encore!"

Stop! The bell's rung!

Mouths expecting

Peerless virtue:

A dish that's sung

By priests and kings.

Yet soup's still soup.

Homogenous,

Faceless liquid.

And but a sip

Can drain The Cup.

Soup 4 (without punctuation)

The soup's too thin!

Cabbage, carrots,

Cucumbers, corn

Slowly fading

Into might've-beens.

Give it substance!

Vegetable

Or animal

Meaning. Perchance

More than happenstance.

Make it linger!

Zesty deeds

Memorial

Timeless flavors

Demanding "encore!"

Stop! The bell's rung!

Mouths expecting

Peerless virtue

A dish that's sung

By priests and kings.

Yet soup's still soup

Homogenous

Faceless liquid

And but a sip

Can drain The Cup.

Soup 3

The soup's too thin!

Cabbage, carrots,

Cucumbers, corn,

Slowly fading

Into might've-beens.

Give it substance!

Vegetable

Or animal

Meaning. Perchance,

More than happenstance.

Make it linger!

Zesty deeds

Memorial,

Timeless flavors

Demanding "encore!"

Stop! The bell's rung!

Mouths expecting

Peerless virtue:

A dish that's sung

By priests and kings.

But soup's still soup.

Homogenous,

Faceless liquid.

And but a sip

Can drain The Cup.

Soup 2

The soup's too thin!

Cabbage, carrots,

Cucumbers, corn

Slowly fading

Into might've-beens.

Give it substance!

Vegetable

Or animal

Meaning. Perchance

More than happenstance.

Make it linger!

Zesty deeds

Memorial

Timeless flavors

Demanding "encore!"

Stop! The bell's rung!

Mouths expecting

Peerless virtue

A dish that's sung

By priests and kings.

But soup's still soup

Homogenous

Faceless liquid

And but a sip

Can drain The Cup.

Soup 1

The soup is thin!

Cabbage, carrots,

Cucumbers, corn

Disappearing

Into might've-beens.

Give it substance!

Vegetable

Or animal

Meaning. Perchance

More than happenstance.

Make it linger!

Zesty deeds

Memorial

Timeless flavors

Demanding "encore!"

The bell is rung!

Mouths expecting

Peerless virtue

A dish that's sung

By priests and kings.

But soup is soup

Homogenous

Faceless liquid

And but a sip

Can drain The Cup.

Interior design

Bedframe: http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10376/16284/

I like the Malm, Nordli, Brimnes, and Mandal - mostly in straight blacks or whites.

Mattress:

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00QBZ265U?fp=1&keywords=tuft%20and%20needle&linkCode=sl1&linkId=10af4f8465a9a73bcaae0eabb5d0db49&pc_redir=T1&qid=1453936168&s=furniture&sr=1-1&tag=sleepopolisma-20

I like the Tuft and Needle mattress - maybe 5"? They come in 10" and 5". Though firmer, the 5" would maintain a lower profile.

Nightstands:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10364/20656/

I like the Nordli, Stockholm, Selje, Malm, Brimnes, Malmsta, and Nornas.

Dressers:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10364/10451/

I like Kullen and Nordli. The 6 drawer Kullen maintains a low, clean profile

Side tables and coffee tables:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/series/09063/

My favorite is Lack ^

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10364/10451/

or Hemnes side tables:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/series/17723/

Floor lamp:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10371/10731/

I like Alang, Klabb, Solleftea, Vidja, Rutbo.

Dining table:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/series/10232/

I like Bjursta.

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/functional/10368/21825/

I like Bjursta, Stornas, Torsby, Melltorp, Bjursnas, Lerhamn, Tarendo.

Desk:

http://m.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/series/07468/

I like Malm.

Memory revision 6

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendezvous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter consumes all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold fruits cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd sip but dare not remember.

When the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Memory revision 5

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendezvous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter consumes all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold fruits cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd sip but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Memory revision 4

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendezvous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter alters all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold fruits cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd sip but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Memory revision 3

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendevous,

So a memory's fragrance should (ooze) speak warmth.

Yet winter alters all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold fruits cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd (sip) but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Memory revision 2

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendevous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter alters all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold fruits cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd speak but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Memory revision 1

A memory is supposed to taste sweet;

As a plump berry recalls ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendevous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter consumes all, deafly, mutely;

Her cold facts cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd speak but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

But mutely recalled (if at all)

A memory is supposed to be sweet;

Like a plump berry tastes of ripe noondays

Full-blossomed in snug evening rendezvous,

So a memory's fragrance should speak warmth.

Yet winter consumes all, deadly, deafly;

Her cold facts cloy bitterly to the tongues

Of men who'd speak but dare not remember.

If the frost taints, is a draught worth the dregs?

Exercise 2

I write to you expecting nothing but

More of the same and exactly what

I suppose you've pre-decided.

But how could you stare and sit idly by

While Romans burned and trampled Trojans died

Under Your condemning silence?

Now my heart pounds with the hooves of Life's cruel horde

Who light slow fires, dedicating to their Lord

The fattest of my best desires.

Plans

I want to study rhetorical progression - how disparity of knowledge drives a narrative. Exposition.

Answered prayer

Frustrated.

That's me.

Perpetually. Inescapably. Increasingly, unceasingly - frustrated.

Life isn't full of dead ends; it IS one. You only end when you're dead. In the meantime, you just helplessly endure each and every roadblock which spitefully interrupts any forward momentum you might have gained since the last one. Wall; wall; wall. Stop. Stop. Stop. (Blank-blank-blank). That's life.

Still, as I take yet another tortured whirl round the mulberry bush, I can't help but notice a little star twinkling. As the dust and debris clear, I (still spinning) see a new bridge emerge - faintly illuminated in singular starlight - from the ashes of the fallen one. Yes, as the bloody bush and broken bridge blur to become mere coffee-stains, my fair lady stands atop the celestially-crowned archway with arms raised and clearly pronounces to its sole hovering lamp: "Thou gem of unexpected beauty and happy circumstance! Give us light beyond life that we, like thee, may guide others into love and truth. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy."

Now I lay me down to sleep. I sell the world my soul too cheap.

Aphorism 1

A lighter which burns

To watch its flame glow

Soon burns itself empty and dark.

A writer who yearns

To make his fame grow

Will yearn himself short of the mark.

Today's Forecast

"The radiant winds of heaven blow eagerly earthward, to catch each facet of some full-budded tree and set it warmly stirring in emeraldine shimmer."

Upon a Midday Breeze of Little Note

chimes,
they say,
sing in the woods' breath,

rung
by none
but hummingbirds' strums.

still,
it seems,
these sylvan dreams slip

by
undone
– unless one Slumbers.