Category Archives: Duke MALS Alumni


The ocean’s breath
becomes my own,

the tide reaches
and withdraws.
The end will come,
for certain,
it will come.

The beginning,
now? or soon?



Begin again

When Waters Still

When waters still,

safe harbors

and I expand to fit the view
alongside those once drowning,

the recognized, and the forgotten,
who mirror me, and I them,

some salvaged souls,
granted a foothold in Grace

by waters stilled.

Grief is a privilege
and a promise.

I am become.

It is Calving Season

It is calving season

on the glacial field,

with groaning, writhing,

and violent births.

How massive, spectacular, and horrible.

it is

when landscapes are altered

by newborn weight,

releasing floods,

that drown

fault lines, failed lines,

sons and daughters

of the living God,

witnesses to

calving season

on the glacial field.

How massive, spectacular, and horrible

it is.

Mildewed Metaphors

flowers and snow drifts,
the sun and the moon,
mildewing metaphors
for heart and grave,
irresistible to poets,
shameless scribes that we be
for timeless reassurance.
Please, read them
to me.

The Beauty of the Place

full-throated aliveness

is in this place.

it swells

with the river’s volume

on a splashing run,


by pleading,

and fussing,

and high-pitched buzzing,

sounds that hang in the air,

living and longing for

life’s fundamentals, the beauty

of this place.

Meadow to Glade


Short is the distance between meadow and glade.

Yesteryear advances,

with updates for a farther edge

while I replay moments

surrendered too cheaply,

in whereabouts unremembered, I now regret

how quickly I moved,

with less the shorter, in distances erased.


On Rattling On

Chatter, blather, blabber, ramble,
prattle, jabber, waffle, drone.

Deliver us from all this noise, dear Lord.
Relieve us from those who are loud, and constant.
Summon earnest conversations,
and ideas
nuanced and elegant,
polished, complex.

Grant us relief from the noise, if you please,
provide us with something to dream by,
something extraordinary, something profound,
a hopeful swelling, blossoming and real.

Deliver us from the noise of the loud, dear Lord,
with deep exchanges among friends
often in silence.

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