Sunday, January 30, 2011


for Monica.

I ate with sinners the other night,
Myself the worst.
The Lord was there,
For it turned out that
(Unbeknownst to us, at first)
We had gathered in His + Name.

Our eyes looked to Thee;
It was due season.

We feasted together on simple fare
(on-sale flank-steak, cast-iron cooked)
Wine did not mock, but made glad our hearts,
Beer proved again that God loves us,
Wants us to be happy;
Thankfully, was not a brawler.

There was something there --
Not quite us, not quite not us.
All I know is that
I felt far shorter than Zacchaeus;
So glad to be invited down from that sycamore tree
To stand on your shoulders, instead.
So glad that you were there,
That I was with you.



  1. This is very good. I especially liked the first and last stanzas. "Something there--/Not quite us.."

  2. Thanks. A much beloved English professor of mine remarked that in any community there is an "us-ness" which is not simply greater than the sum of its parts, but other than the sum of its parts, "not quite us, not quite not us." So that's more or less plagiarized. But that's OK, because this same professor told me that most people never write anything original in their entire lives -- and it's a good thing, too, that they don't.