there is no such
thing as silence
in the calm
of any quiet
you can hear
hearts breaking
dreams dying
thanks giving
sadness singing
hope harmonizing
losses mounting
faith enduring
grace pervading
love crashing in
listen closely
listen . . .
for your name
your name
mine, too
Peace,
Milton
I tried prose tonight but all I could do was drop a gravel load of anger in the middle of the page this is no time for stones I tried to be relevant but all I could do was take my best shot in the ranting wars in hopes of getting hits this is not…
imago d.e.i. can we talk numbers? 91 different kinds of antelope 11,000 different birds 50,000 spiders 34,000 snakes 30,000 fish and too many worms to try and count not to mention us we humans are one of 522 different primates but perhaps the only ones who see themselves as the image of God which begs…
“No one cries over artificial flowers.”–Peter Coyote biscuit king by the time we moved to durham the biscuit king had ended his reign sunny side up was our breakfast joint in guilford till they closed down in charlestown collier’s market made the best cheeseburger sub evah I can chronicle my life in closed down restaurants…
slouching towards bethlehem yeats put pen to page last century in the wake of a world war and as his wife was recovering from the pandemic before this one we’ve since learned how to keep the world at war without end to live in sustainable exhaustion and act as though we’re alive easier to replace…
We worshipped today at First African Baptist Church in Richmond. It was a rich and meaningful service and the people there greeted us with extravagant hospitality. I have stories to tell about our day, but tonight, I am still dealing with feelings brought up by what I have seen while we have been here. Here’s…
In my reading this week, I came across these words: If we’re not to lose heart in the aftermath of failures, we must take care how we tell our stories. — (Lawrence Weinstein, Grammar for a Full Life: How the Ways We Shape a Sentence Can Limit or Enlarge Us) His words helped me find…
i’m listening
Thanks.
Milton, you are firing on all pins, my friend…
(As I tell my mom–who is an incredible artist at 80–You know? If you keep practicing…)
Thanks, Nathan. Here’s to practicing.
Peace
Milton