Thinking about...

G.K. Chesterton
‎"THE Christian admits that the universe is manifold and even miscellaneous, just as a sane man knows that he is complex. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman. But the Materialist's world is quite simple and solid, just as the madman is quite sure he is sane. The Materialist is sure that history has been simply and solely a chain of causation, just as the interesting person before mentioned is quite sure that he is simply and solely a chicken. Materialists and madmen never have doubts. ~GKC: 'Orthodoxy.'

sex

Lora Ketzenberger Horn
‎"Sex is, in Paul's image, a joining of your body to someone else's. In baptism, you have become Christ's body, and it is Christ's body that must give you permission to join his body to another body. In the Christian grammar, we have no right to sex. The place where the church confers that privilege on you is the wedding; weddings grant us license to have sex with one person. Chastity, in other words, is a fact of gospel life. In the New Testament, sex beyond the boundaries of marriage—the boundaries of communally granted sanction of sex—is simply off limits. To have sex outside those bounds is to commit an offense against the body. Abstinence before marriage, and fidelity within marriage; any other kind of sex is embodied apostasy." -- Lauren Winner

Silence

Your silence is the sound of me hitting the trashcan,
ricocheting off dumpster walls...

Lutheran quotations

“
God is in our midst! Also today. Because what happened once in history is not only something in the past. The connection that was then opened between earth and heaven has never since been broken. The same Lord, who came to dwell among us, also built His Church among us. He is still active there through His Spirit, in the external forms of the word and the sacraments. The new life still descends into this world of corruption. The eternal light is still being revealed. Christ is still doing the work for which He was made man.

Bo Giertz - Christ’s Church: Her Biblical Roots, Her Dramatic History, Her Saving Presence, Her Glorious Future

Agnostos

"If you say there is no God, you will make yourself a god."

proprioception, your body's awareness of where it is in relation to itself. Read more: 6 Lies About the Human Body You Learned in Kindergarten | Cracked.com http://www.cracked.com/article_19296_6-lies-about-human-body-you-learned-in-kindergarten.html#ixzz1iPnpKCfA

http://www.cracked.com/article_19296_6-lies-about-human-body-you-learned-in-kindergarten.html

Beggars Mites- a work in progress 10-8-11- the dictionary phase

Your words are like crumbs
on my path.
Scraps, scattered,
to designate, mark, blaze
a journey, a passage-
home.

Hanseled to the earth,
Greteled to a tree;
these crumbs are a child's
way of remembering,
a last ditch of an affect.
("an expressed or observed emotional response")

I gobble them hungrily,
like the black-capped chickadee
of mixed forest
(decidious/coniferous)
the present
or
prairie,
past.
darting, pivoting, hovering,
hanging upside down to feed:
a balencing act
of wild chickery, Queen Anne's lace, and beggar's lice
and body weight.
Is it the weight or the wind
that bows my support,
my foundation?

II.

My days, nights
are consumed
with my caches of your words
I've stored in dead bark,
leaves, and clusters of connifer needles-
3G data plan-
till my 28 day memory fades.
The words putrify in morning light on that 29th day...
like manna, words were never meant to be hoarded-
kept prisoner in the brain...
cankers...
I count the words on my fingers-
I tick them off.
Flicking my fingers in a chant-
a rhythum...
It is not enough.

III.

Instead I would be the jay,
stellar,
raucous,
cackling, cawing,
flaunting my presence
in the boughs of pine.
Flashing blue
in the tangle
of a manzanita maze.
(a wall not unlike Sleeping Beauty's thorny barrier-
but I'm no sleeping beauty and you are not a prince...)

My life in fairy tales
is grim.
What looks to be is not.

Stealing kibbles of dogfood
instead of oily black sunflower seeds...
A sentinel: in a watch-
tower of mammath sugar pine.
I dip, carry, hide.
Loud in my protest
at your entrance,
disturbing my feeding,
my growing,
my changing.

IV. Geier

I would be King of the Sky,
not groveling groundward,
seduously scurrying,
mindlessly amassing
the soupcan you've strewn upon my path.

My olfactory lobe pierces the litter
of the forest floor.
I reign in confidence,
kettling skyward on thermals.

I know what I want:
not crumbs,
or beggars mites.
My life is not fairy tales,
nor grim.
What looks to be is not,
and crumbs on forest floors
leave me hungry.