Another incomplete napkin thought from the day i was at 911 on the George Washington bridge. This poem could take a lifetime, but this was what i wrote on the napkin anyways…

at 911
from george washington’s bridge things
sped up and slowed down
at once, that day-today,
fire and steel
were both also
silent for an instant, twisting firstly into one another, and then
suddenly very loud, cacophonous
like the inside of thunder, i heard
the man of steel shriek
in wonder of
why he made
sky scrapers at all, for an instant;
perhaps he had a memory of babel…
and yet the angels
kept catching bodies
in mid air, in sheer kindness, and
beneath, i saw only
the dragon cloud; and
on all sides
as we all fell together, so many bodies tumbling
down through our Styrofoam cups-
falling curiously in slow motion-
God seemed to have lifted His Thumb for a second,
but was also very much there, catching us all in time, as we landed
into the kindness of His enormous tender endless Palms.
At least, that’s how it looked from the first father’s bridge that day!
Already and still remembering each person’s name in mid air,
us all falling together
there…

at 911
from george washington’s bridge things
sped up and slowed down
at once, that day-today,
fire and steel
were both also
silent for an instant, twisting firstly into one another, and then
suddenly very loud, cacophonous
like the inside of thunder, i heard
the man of steel shriek
in wonder of
why he made
sky scrapers at all, for an instant;
perhaps he had a memory of babel…
and yet the angels
kept catching bodies
in mid air, in sheer kindness, and
beneath i saw only
the dragon cloud; and
on all sides
as we all fell together, so many bodies tumbling
down through our Styrofoam cups-
falling curiously in slow motion-
God seemed to have lifted His Thumb,
but was also very much there, catching us all as we landed
into the kindness of His enormous tender endless Palms.
At least, that’s how it looked from the first father’s bridge that day!
Already remembering each person’s name in mid air!

Another poem i found today written on a napkin (seems to be my favorite medium-napkins and receipts!)

my grandfather’s palms
were so tender when he passed
like train tracks made of velvet snow
they remembered railroad ties
and tobacco glow,
ropes
and corn
jarring lids
up until the moment
when he couldn’t tighten things
any more.
At the funeral, a train passed
and rattled the words of
preacher Horn that day;
many felt it
as The Holy Spirit
we waited for as it passed through; Then,
we all filed out,
and went back to our other lives,
the ones we barely know in passing…

Iowa Winter, i never knew
what constant chill lives there
but i know snow
better than fields anyway,
and that ice skin climbing wind
must be my cousin
or at least akin.
But your skin must still be cold
tonight, years later friend.
For we never forget weather, so
somehow we all know one another
well already.

Being an ice cream boy taught me everything!

My very first job was as an ice cream man–well in my case, ice cream boy, with my Uncle Archie who was an itinerant preacher, or what they would call these days, a church planter (he planted many from the carolinas to california!) but in his off season drove ice cream trucks.

And, in addition to leaving me his last sermon, which was in couplets and end rhymes and really good, he taught me to make people happy on hot afternoons through the medium of ice cream. I can’t remember how old i was, maybe 12, 13. But he was teaching me life through ice cream.

I’m still not sure which was his main job-preaching or ice cream. Although, his preaching and church planting felt more weighty, i think the ice cream truck, of which he left four after he passed, were close in terms of bringing Joy to the world!

The two have always seem related in my heart since then-ice cream and the gospel that is! Bring Joy, bring the gospel, play cool songs, have a colorful vehicle, make people’s day, heighten things, until you can really enjoy your snow cone or ice cream (we did both!).

Ice cream is still similar to the gospel to me. If it’s good news, then kids should run after it. Play cool music, make the neighborhood a party, and serve something that’s just colorful and ridiculously good–the rest will just happen!

Melody in the already music box we are….(my heart, a star, hears an endless sky song! This poem is also talking about the already/not yet of The Kingdom, which began it’s melody on The Cross! NT Wright’s and many other’s, messages rings true here; but more loudly, the melody which Jesus was, is so loud in my ears each day, it’s nearly all I hear! Every other song is brought forth by that one, which is already singing….)

After reading poetry all day in the old library with my love, had to write one myself. Excuse the length, i’m not a brief poem, though sometimes i wish i were a haiku!

Excuse the old cadences (syllabic, mostly, with my own free verse, of course!), I’ve got irish blood and my mother studied british literature alas, but how can we keep from singing, once we hear the melody playing in our dreams already! Good art, forces good living, as they say! And since someone asked me for the whole unfinished poem…..this one about how to carry what we learn or hear in dreams into our daily life of cleaning toilets (which i did throughout college, as well as clowning of course!)

(As that poet i once met said, “it will take us a long time to hear the full melody playing”, but already, i said back, the angels are singing! That’s what we spoke of when we really met, after hours…)

Already, my dreams are filled with choruses, which contradict the day!
I sleep in songs i can’t explain away when waking.
Everything-each color, person, cityscape, conversation, table,
woman’s wrist in sunlight turning, already whole in play,
So this morning, i can’t believe the gas station’s broken
handle today, the clerk’s cynical tone, the cracked pipe, the ice cream melting on my lap, the gunshot, or broken glass (i wasn’t sure which),
the spilt coffee, the truck wreck outside, the oil slick-the deep tone of
the ocean’s water crying, or even my own complaints-all,
seem so petty in comparison to what i dreamed last night!
I mean, just last night, i dreamed of each person being
so fully themselves it made me cry just to approach us! It healed even the sky, and trees and butterflies were redundant in glory.
I saw a horse leaning in ease, munching grasses beside the highways.
I saw a woman in a corner, knitting quietly in joy, having never been photographed.
i saw a kid, playing with a new toy just for Joy.
I saw creatures which refuse to be surreal, because they were so real.
I also saw myself just watching it all in awe. And
the whole thing was a melody already playing…and
with this already melody in my heart, in torn notation by
when i woke up, the rest of the day was just fine-in time with itself.
We were all like music boxes just waiting to be cracked opened
by some unseen careful hand!
In my dream, i was almost so much myself
that a burst out of my skin again;
when i woke up, i realized it was my
music box, and just wanted to dance all day, to twirl
and play!
For my dreams are filled with choruses
which contradict the day.

Still picking my jackets for this upcoming trip. Of course, going Johnny Cash, itinerant preacher poet dreamer on this one (my usuals, as they are me!). But I also need just a touch of Fred Astaire meets Harry Dean Stanton on this trip.
I think often about how could what i wear, bless the place or people I’m visiting (why not let our clothes be prophetic?) we usually interrupt the message anyways….how could fashion be an act of prayer for them before i get there?! That’s how I pack anyways!
Where I’m heading needs a touch of joy and levity, so the outfit needs to carry that anointing. This will take a bit of time….still wardrobe is underrated as a spiritual gift! And Joy and great costumes may be our best medicine these days!
If you don’t do the back work, don’t show up, as my mentor said! Symbolic fashion is like prayer–do it before you do anything else! Even the priest, consecrated themselves by wearing unique costumes! Consider the symbols…
This jacket from a polish designer is a contender. Got it in Berlin at a trailer show. Plus, it has four inner pockets–two with zippers!
I like lots of pockets, as I collect things wherever I go. I’m a treasure hunter….an inner artifact finder, a metal detector for the soul of things-so I need lots of pockets in my jackets! And they need to actually work. My wife often reinforces them to carry the gold I find globally! Fashion also has to “work”!

Serve with whatever gifts you’ve been given! Blessings towards my literal natural blood sister today! She’s helped me out with practical health issues while on my many roads and nations, so many times, and today was helping out my wife who caught something.
My own sister, a medical doctor who works with women with high risk pregnancies, keeps serving- even just today towards my wife, serves with her medical gifts, as my wife was a bit sick today- we always call my sister who is a doctor and just has that practical wisdom you often need in life!
Happiness is serving others with our unique gifts.
Whatever gifts we have, just serve with them! It contextualizes them, give the text of our lives, meaning.
The thing that makes life meaningful, to serve with whatever you have been blessed to know! My sister also served me multiple times when i was in strange places, with odd ailments, and needed medical advice.
She also goes to Ethiopia often to help with trauma pregnancies-her specialty. She walks in that way. Works in an affordable clinic for high risk pregnancy.
Always inspiring, morally, my sister!
Thankful for my sister today, and the way we were raised—whatever you got (even if it’s a “peculiar” gift like mine, try to be excellent at it, and serve others with it. Give to know! Give to glow!
The purpose of having gifts in certain areas of life, is to give them to others who actually need them!
My sister, unlike me, is not on social media or these recent ways of broadcasting ourselves—but she is broadcasted in other realms!
Thanks sister today, for once again helping people (in this case my wife who had a stomach flu) in need-so many, you’ve blessed-in unseen, but tangible practical wise ways!
Those who regard the weak, will always be blessed, as the good book puts it!
Perhaps, it’s the unseen prayers which matter most! My sister is one of those sorts of prayers!
Thankful today for my sister! I’m blessed to be surrounded by so many saints in life! Shout out to my sister, who is a hidden star!

Talking angel stories, and supernatural instances today with a fellow artist friend. (Mine, are many!)
Love talking about those moments in life when you were sure something broke in from another dimension, to help you out—my native american hitchhiker who warned me of a coming storm, and the black janitor angel who warned me about 911 that day in NYC—evidently it wasn’t my time yet, but God wanted me to see and experience it from the George Washington bridge.
Love how interactive the dimensions are; I’m friends with those who are friends with Him! And true angels are practical! Fun talking about the supernatural today with a local artist friend.

Maybe artists are the the only ones still thinking about the supernatural context we live our daily lives in! People tend to avoid that conversation, but it’s real, if you believe Daniel or any of the prophets! We are small fish in much larger aquarium! Let’s get used to the water!

The fruit of the supernatural encounters I’ve had is love and humility and appreciation, that He really does have angels watching over us. For some folks it’s about faith, but it seems pretty clear we were born into a larger environment that was here before us!

None of us knows the full dimensional story, but nice talking with artist who keep getting keyholes into a larger context going on in our daily lives. Always reminds me of Elijah or Daniel in those sudden moments when the veil is partially lifted enough to realize we aren’t alone.
I have so many angel stories, but i know lots of folks stumble on the theology of it, so we artist will just keep sharing our God stories in the corners….until That Day! But I do know that angels have saved my life multiple times. Just ask them.
I’ve always assumed there is more to life than just us, and things can work in tandem past our veils of knowing. But also, angels are cool!
At least the ones I’ve met who was a friend of Jesus. And that angel really helped me take the right road that day on 9/11. We each seem to play our part in the end.
Artist tend to “get” angels, they have no problem with their being another dimension other that the obvious one. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.
Still, i’m sure, we need discernment in that realm also! Nice supernatural conversation today. The Kingdom is always also here at this cafe as we chat! I like talking about the supernatural realm with people, it’s part of being people!
There’s always more than meets the eye in life! Good talking about that “more” today with a friend.

Being a clown counselor isn’t always easy, but is entirely entertaining. I’ve never been bored by my calling! Humor and healing dance well together, but the music is always a bit funky!

One of my mentors said to me: you are balloon and a potato–clown and counselor, so you must learn great joy and sit with great sorrow.

I’m still learning to walk that tight rope! Still, i couldn’t imagine a funnier or deeper way! Plus, what options do you have–you have to be what you are. To be or not, is still the most basic question. But the question was rhetorical!

To be is just a better way to be!