practice
practice
I spent the evening
singing harmony
with a pick-up gospel choir—
songs I didn’t know
parts I didn’t know
offering me the
gentle reminder
that listening comes first,
then you sing.
Peace,
Milton
practice
I spent the evening
singing harmony
with a pick-up gospel choir—
songs I didn’t know
parts I didn’t know
offering me the
gentle reminder
that listening comes first,
then you sing.
Peace,
Milton
Perspective I feel small in the face of overwhelming violence: another killing, another killing, another killing . . . it’s as hard to be hopeful as it is to be poetic. How can our kindness afford to be random when the violence is intentional? This can’t be the last word. Peace, Milton
role call were I to place myself in the story I think I would choose to be a shepherd who did not have to prepare a thing they simply abided watching sheep sleep until the angel choir burst into star song and sent them sprinting towards Bethlehem and then they went back to abiding that…
winded it’s not just stacking the wood you have to cover it–I know that it doesn’t sound hard, does it I walked down to Page’s and bought a tarp, blue and brown and a pack of bungee cords the first time I centered the tarp and folded in the edges like I was gift-wrapping and…
the end of poetry month also marks the end of a poet a protester a prophet a priest those are not often captured in one person he was already in his forties when I learned who he was a pastor asking questions that didn’t come up in most baptist circles by the time I was…
we gathered for dinner on this penultimate thursday because this is the night that we eat dinner together for no other reason than we eat dinner together. fourteen around the table— a couple more than were there the night Jesus broke the bread, poured the wine and spilt his love all over his friends, hoping…
interstices the space between trees the crack in the mortar the time between floors if we took away the spaces between us among us the universe would collapse into a fist the rest between notes the breath before words the pause to ponder intervening emptinesses waiting to be noticed to be seen as something other…
That’s got to be the first commandment in preaching: listening comes first.
It certainly has a nice ring to it! [reminds me of a poem I wrote once — one of the 5 or 6 that *I* remember as being quite good, even to my over-analytical extra-critical self-deprecating Self — that started out with “if feelings were first/ then who [& how?] did the naming come about?/ & who/ was there/ to listen to/ the names?”
You’ve been on my mind quite a bit lately, Milton. I surely miss the times we found to hang out, and I would rejoice to spend some time with you, as our time together always felt to me like BOTH of us walked away with our spirits lifted, or (at the least) we parted ways a little lighter confident that our friendship blossomed in the knowledge that we tried to take some of each other’s burden. I sense that you would welcome any “burden carrying” that your friends could arrange — wish I could be there for you, ol’ buddy.
Just know that there’s at least one Atlanta-based “best read line cook I know” who is periodically praying for you, always with a smile on my face.
Much love,
Mitch
Best description of discernment…ever. May I use it with attribution?
Of course.