When we hear a black man ...

“When we hear a black man describe police violence; when we hear an undocumented immigrant describe exploitative labor; when we hear a prisoner describe institutionalized brutalization; when we hear a young gay woman describe homelessness – our first response must not be to attempt to discredit, to rationalize, to explain away. Rather, we must give them the credit we would expect others to give to us, and try to understand experiences that differ substantially from our own. . . . This doesn’t mean credulously accepting every narrative or policy proposal that is accompanied by a claim of oppression; we still have to apply our rational faculties. It does mean treating every story with the solicitude we would reflexively grant to members of our own economic, social, racial, and religious tribes."
-- Brandon McGinley

evening notes #5

5

"Mary, it was nice breaking bread. I guess Amanda and Gabriel are officially hooked on tortas al pastor."

Mary, at twilight, I always look for the Big Dipper, then off of Alkaid, the star at the tip of the handle, I find the North Star. Afterward, I settle into my lawn chair, turn on my music, pour myself a drink, and light a cigar. I often wonder if, in another galaxy, in a faraway solar system, another being is stargazing and contemplating the existence of other intelligent life.

Usually, on bright, star-filled nights, I drift back to my youth in Texas, to my grandfather's farm. In the evening, after a hard day's work and after dinner, our dessert would come from the garden. Albert and I -- Shio straggling behind -- walked down row after row searching for the juiciest meloncito, cantaloupe, or honeydew. Before we ate our fruit, we'd place it in the fresh, cold water of the irrigation ditch, and then we'd recline and wait for the stars. We'd talk about extra-terrestrials, alien creatures, and space exploration. Time would fly, and soon the moon would appear, and the Texas sky, aglitter with stars, would transport us to another world.

In those moments, I'd marvel at God's creation, and my belief in an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent being was reaffirmed. And underneath the umbrella of God's hand, my imagination ran wild unable to contain the infinite power of the Creator's glory. But ultimately, my thoughts would turn to the existence of man and what lay beyond: spirit, soul, afterlife, paradise.

When I sit in my lawn chair and gaze into the star-filled night, I am face to face with God, and the universe makes me feel extraordinary and immense, not small and insignificant. Faith and His creation anchor me. The stars call me home to the infinite, to the eternal. One day, somewhere beyond the Milky Way, beyond the hundred billion galaxies that swirl in space, I will abide in my Father's mansion.

Mary, you're an inspiration, and I love you, and maybe one night, you can treat me to a cigar, and we can stargaze together. And if you're nice, I'll even show you my special star which burns in the northern sky like the Star of Bethlehem. What do you say?

Well, talk to you later. And you know I love you more.

evening notes #1

1

"How are you, Mary? I hope you had a wonderful day."

Saturday night, at around 10, I was on my back porch, smoking a cigar and having a drink. Across the street, neighbors had a fire going and were roasting marshmallows. I guess it was a fellowship of Christian women. They were singing hymns and such. I was listening to Al Green, surrounded by my flowers and chimes. Occasionally the chimes played soothingly as a breeze caressed them. It was a beautiful night. The moon looked like a pearl against the night sky. Beside her, because of an astrological occurrence, Mars shone bright like the Star of David.

So there I sat, smoking my cigar, drinking my tequila, letting my thoughts drift into space when the women began to pray. I lowered my music, turned out my cigar, and listened. An older woman led the prayer, and soon others joined in. Their voices rose to a crescendo, and my heart broke, and I also prayed. They prayed for the healing of church and family members and for the healing of the world. I prayed for you and your family. I prayed His will be done, although I wished otherwise. There I was in the dark, on my porch, amid this crazy, weird, beautiful moment, praying.

I hadn't spoken to God for some time, but this wasn't planned, and it just happened. A hush fell over the gathering, then a gust of wind brought them out of their deep meditation. They hugged, and there was laughter and hallelujahs. I remembered my walk with the Lord; though it seemed like a century ago, a longing overcame me. It was a hallelujah moment, and I reflected on my life as I stared into the vast universe and listened to their worship songs. The moon, the Creator's unblinking eye, shinned its light on me, and it was good.

I sat there for a good bit thinking of you and how much I love you, but more importantly, how much our Father in heaven loves you. I felt mom and dad's presence and all our loved ones, which brought me peace. Mary, I'm here for you, but the most beautiful thing is the Great Comforter dwells within you. He will always be there.

Well, I just wanted to share my moment with you. And Nana, never forget that I love you more.

She Hears Him

    


















She dreams
he scurries across the floor,
and through any nook or cranny,
disappears into the walls,
then she awakens to an empty crib
-- the house settles
-- the windows rattle.

All night
she hears him crying
behind the woodwork. 

Happy Union: A Path To Enlightenment

Happy Union, Texas

at the waterhole, north end of grandfather's farm

where Kirby keeps his cattle.

It's evening and 110 degrees.

Barbas de Oro is whooshing up from El Rio Grande.

The chaparral throbs, and the cornfields rattle like pissed-off snakes.

I float in a pond, listen to killdeer, and scissor-tails.

Frogs plop in the water and ripple after ripple

passes through me.

I'm a buoy connected to Yahweh.

My head bobs in the swish\swoosh

body of water, and I muse –

If Jesus is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent;

if He is here at this moment,

has He counted every strand on my head?

If He knows me fully,

and I know Him,

having consumed His body

and drank His blood,

if He is here now,

does He ascend in golden plumes,

arms raised, palms turned outward,

pale face, blue-eyed, and blond;

or, is He in the water

nude,

dark, shiny as a stone;

hair raven and in curls,

eyes black and catholic?

"Well Rabbi," I begin,

"It's like this --"

We talk late in the evening.

Just me and Jesus

-- neither here nor there --

in the heart of Texas,

in a slow spiral,

our heads bobbing

in the swish\swoosh

body of water.

When Flowers Were In Bloom

When flowers were

in full bloom,
I saw you.
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

You were more beautiful --

When wildflowers sweetened
the bee laden days,
and sudden northern winds
blew those strange Saturdays
into so many lost Sundays,
I danced like a dervish
whirling, whirling
till flames burned
above my head.

And though I offered days
of bells and honey,
your heart walked
down a narrow road
to a temple in the east
never  to return --
I lost myself.

And in evening light,
I sat in a pasture
with a thousand bluebells
and waited for the stars,
and the cosmos dark daggers
shredded my heart,
and I hung naked
on the North Star
and wept --

Still,
I thought,
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

You were more beautiful --

although

my daughter screams
all you do is drink and write poetry
it's not true
i've never been drunk a day in my life
although
i've written plenty of bad poetry