The Light has Returned (Sestina)


Beyond the pinpoint of midnight there is a light.
And within that dollop of a spark there is heat,
The flames jockeying for position on a red wick.
From a hand protrudes a slender white candle
That connects to the silhouetted body of a man
There, some unknown messenger of long lost hope.

Like Noah’s dove, he has returned holding hope.
Grasping securely onto the remains of a guiding light
Wax slides onto his fingers as he raises the bright candle,
Incandescence illuminates the hands of this man
Coalescing gently over his skin, it purges liquid heat.
A wavering glow, desperate sparks cling to the wick.

A filament pyre, colors of fire race through the wick,
Cycles of autumn re-imagine the vision of hope
And will long sought deliverance be found in this man?
Has he come that we may walk in his marvelous light?
We in darkness have dreamed of knowing heat,
But until now have had no way to light our candles.

A great and reviving jubilation exudes from the candle
An ever-changing aura of flames frolic on the wick.
The winter of darkness has been overcome by heat.
And with that warmth comes an even superior hope,
As our eyes swell with promise at this newfound light
And it draws deliberately nearer in the arms of this man.

But why would he be mindful of another man?
Who are we that he would care for our extinguished candles?
Why would he come to crown us in his light?
Yet he beckons, that we would come near to his wick.
He promises to generously share this flare of hope,
And we will be renewed by the heritage of its heat.

Carrying the fire, our own bodies will emanate his heat
Selflessly given to us by this figure much more than a man.
And from his coming, we will walk forward in hope,
Abiding in the sight afforded to us by his candle
With his offering we are captivated by the golden wick
That we may forever return with him to the city of lights.

With the consuming heat that radiates from this man
We have understood that he is our only hope and as his candle
Has lit our wicks to burning, he declares, “I am the light!”

Man (Remix)


There are many ways
In which I am a man.
Perhaps I can offer you a few manswers
And a little comandy as well
In my following mantra manuscript:

With feats of strength and might
I command the armies
Calling orders and making mandates.
But let’s be clear about that, I don’t man-date.
With unmatched skill I maneuver and demand.
I proclaim manifestos!
And I’m a maniac.
I’m mangy so stay out of my way
Or I’ll mangle you.
But don’t worry, for I still have manners.
For example when I’m not manipulating
I mail my letters in manila envelopes
Or play love songs with my mandolin.

I am a man with much to manage
As I manufacture tanks
And other mandatory and manly things.
But I take time off for my manicures!
I hate Monday’s but I love Mandays
When I can watch Manchester United.

I take my vacations to Manitoba
Where I eat mandarins or mangos
And sprinkle cinnaman on them
Chewing with my mandible.
While there I once saw a manta ray
And almost caught maningitis
While I was hunting for manatee

I never wear pants. I only wear mants
And I place important papers on my mantle
So that I’ll never forget my manniversary!



i’d like to imagine i’m
politically progressive, yet
yesterday i changed my own oil
and became a man.
I slid beneath the car
as if entering some secret
mancave, the license plate
transforming into a NO GIRLS sign
I peered into the mechanical intricacies, nodding
in acknowledgment of the innate knowledge
embedded in My Y-chromosome
and I set to work
with the solemnity of a samurai
some time later I emerged
cleaning My hands with the greasiest of rags
these oil stains becoming the lifeblood of the vanquished
evidence of excess testosterone.
now, Come, women:
bask in my musky glory.

dear dear dear dear


you remember
the things you do while
alone that you think
no one can see
and you stomach the days
knowing the ways
that you throw all you say
to the sea

when your alone

and your back

is turned

to the world

and what you really love
and what you really hate
and what you really think
and what you really do
and how you cope
and how i hope
you choke on all the
blood you drew

when your alone

and you think

i’m not


A Man for and With Others


I am no longer a student
But a scholar A follower
Of the teachings of Ignatius
My life is changing rapidly
To transform into a new
Being of competence
To show the world my best

What am I to become?
What am I in four short years?
What am I in my prime?
What am I when I move on to the other half of life?

I answer you now

I shall become
A Man for and With Others
I will be
A Man for and With Others
I shall succeed as
A Man for and With Others
When I leave this place I’ll be still
A Man for and With Others



jobs to big for you
i can man tain
water too cold for you
can be held in my
man teen
you eat bananas
but i eat
man tains
you do things ten times
i do them to the man teenth time
and people are impressed

you carry a multitool
but i carry a mantool

and you drink beer
i drink maneer
and poop

i’m more manly and drink
man 2 – oh
while you stick with hydrogen
and my manercise
makes your pilates look even more feminine

i do one-armed man ups
and man presses in my sleep

but usually i only feel
mantastic when i’m around my woman

because sometimes we think microchips and nukes make us pretty tough


your torrential downpour –
wash us clean from our pride
to remind us
of things we cannot control

your voice alone is the thunder
your grace alone is the rain

no matter the price of gas
you will not cease to send your rain

people dying in earthquakes
those who will drown today in oceans
they’re as real as this house
this street, this page, these words

and my wife.

you created life
we try so hard to harness
you alone create.

how small i am and how big you are
to strike down,

remembering that you are not safe
but you are good

your rain
so thick i cannot see
you remind us who you are

and who are