Working on some poems today! Came across this confession from a journal when i lived on the road (which was a long while)…to quote Dylan, “I was so much older then, i’m younger than that now.” But certainly, i was thinking about spiritual artistic matters…nice to cull through old journals and small notes…I must’ve been reading Heschel and Buber, and St John, even then…those mystics, willing to tear the veil, be torn themselves, or recognize that’s it’s already torn, that heaven is already touching earth through us! Anyways, nice find…

My home, now a car, like my heart, or even just my body (skin bone stone), and certainly my tiny words-nuanced trickles, leaning into, or like Evan Roberts, bent enough; my cars or ministries, the carriages
of my ridiculous careers…
What are they, but a temporary kinetic shelter for the Most High
to act out His grand and dramatic Drama
(what are we but Sukkoth?!-a tent in Great Wind!)
on my broken stage.

Publish yourself Lord
produce your play through me
make me your own song in motion,
until others can see You in me, I in Thee.
Until i decrease into receptivity like a camera
and You take your best shot through us!

Make me dead, yielded awake and useful in That Way!