Sunday, December 30, 2007



Comparative religion is a farce;
Comparing love is blasphemy at best:
As though a love or faith could just be parsed,

A thing for those without faith to assess!

How shall I then make sense of what has been,

And make it part of what I am today?

All I know is that neither love is sin,

If it bear fruit, which both do in their way.

I came to both with less experience,

And live in both in wonder at their power.

I live in both though most would see a fence

Between them; I maintain love knows its hour.

I do not understand what God has wrought;

I walk new ways in trust, and all untaught.


Too late to call my lover, and my longing
For him overcomes all other stirrings

In my heart, all thoughts left in my mind—
His sense of humor, little rules, his smile,

His touch, which leaves me weak and makes me strong,

His chest, the nipples peeking through the fur,

His forwardness, which leaves me far behind,

His willingness to make my life worthwhile.

So many things a critic might judge wrong,
To my eye fade into a background blur,

Against which all those attributes I find

Of over-arching worth stand out a mile.

Yes, I will rush to answer when he calls,

And worship all he is, from bone to balls.


If this is love, I held it off for years.
I sought a purer love the world would bless;

I found it and it gave my life a meaning
I have had to question since it died

Not died, but ended. Once I faced my fears

And knew myself, no better and no less,

I could not go on living in between.

With heavy heart, I felt I must switch sides.

There’s more to all of this than shifting gears;
Where love comes to an end, life’s just a mess—

To live half fifty-five and half fifteen

Makes for an awful roller-coaster ride.

I’ve crossed the line, I’ve risen from the grave,

And like Him, take on flesh to live a slave.


1 comment:

  1. Troll, I continue to be amazed at your poetry. Lyrical, touching, clever, passionate.

    Cheers for the new year from your toasted bear