Passing-Thought

solipsism

to body and
to Body and
to BODY
the mouth and mind of a babe cleaves and cries for strength until
"He silences foes and avengers with perfected praise."

from BODY and
from Body and
from body,
the leprous mind and mouth severs from self until
"it passes through waterless places, seeking rest,
but does not find it."

the diplomacy of silence

The dreadful sign language of silence is deafening.
My ears look for justice;
they grope in darkness for truth spoken through love.
I whispered in her ear. At first, a wishing well.
Then with time, a room crowded with "Hello?"
A deep, rocky chasm that only answers in Echo,
returning my whisper as desparate shouts. vomit.
Its darkness swells as does the womb of Sheol with the dead.
forever they kick against its uterus.
Teach me, St. Job, your wisdom, your patience.
Or should I not let silence take so long to say "so long"?

O my soul, His silence is but a breath between His words.
He is patient with your banter, courteous not to interrupt.
Father, forgive the foolish words I've multiplied, so full of me.
Yes, my words return to haunt me, because they seek me and my glory.
I shut my mouth now; I listen for You with silence.

He longs for her jealously

The Gospel in a Nutshell?

weapons of war

Jesus says faith can cast a mountain into the sea.
Satan says, "Silence sends souls to hell."

the cricket

Crickets sing in the night;

Their violins carol or dirge rather,

A chorus to accompany an awkward pause,

To cheer or rather to mock

My reading of her silence

Upon a canvas blackened of my sins.

an impreccatory psalm

My enemies surround me as I lie in bed;
In the night they scour in legions.
Scuttering they scutter forth;
Scurrying they scurry.
Their deeds they plan in the secret parts;
Their messengers spy out our dwelling places.
They loath the light.
Let their thievery steal away their nest,
And the food which they plunder: poison!
Their backs shall lie where their feet tread,
and their bellies under their folded arms.
O Lord, cast them out from our inhabitation,
And remove all their uncleanness.
For you are a God who abhors filthiness.

Kugel's Idea of Poetry

(b)(a)(d) a,s,S, Lowth / BAD! BAD! //
Take this / (what's more) take that! //
Neither rhythm nor rhyme / oreason4aline //
'poetry' or 'prose' / who knows!?? //
So get behind me, Shakespeare / the Bible thou shalt fear //

"messy love" by Eric Pyle (2/14/2002)

Sometimes love is a messy room missing all its pretty flowers, a fairy tale frozen from its first kiss, a conversation never spoken...

"the exile" by Eric Pyle (Jan 2002)

Who would've thought we'd see such a dawn, the blind of the scorch from the west?
What screeching sorrow muffles to the ear, a song in the silence of its rest,
When clenched mouth doth sour, and tongue the driest pallet doth taste,
Where all touch is lost and all pain is felt, no hand to hold, no hand.
Why, my Father, endure this stench of time? -- your Spirit knows.
How long, O Lord, Thy haste?

_r_o_w_ (.e.d.pyle.) [12/5/2003]