Poetry is being rescued, these days, from the back rooms of campus libraries and dark alleys of downtown by a robust crop of writers and lyricists. You may meet some you appreciate in this issue of the Dialogue.

There has been so much talk of poetry among us (especially in Center City) that we thought we would risk asking people to offer some of their work for publication. We deeply appreciate those who have been vulnerable enough to share the intimacy that poetry seems to demand. We asked each author to share a line about their motivation to help us understand. Thanks for that, too.

We long for poetic intimacy with one another and with God. No doubt that is why the Bible is full of poetry. The Psalms, which are often the best-loved part of the Bible, are poems and song lyrics that lead us closer to God. The Song of Songs is an amazing, erotic love poem. Often Paul can’t resist quoting a poem or song when he is trying to get a point across. So let’s begin with him.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels,

but have not love,

I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains,

but have not love,

I am nothing.

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,

but have not love,

I gain nothing.

This quarterly is part of our ongoing dialogue of love. We use as many ways as we can to come together and keep together on this long, dangerous and joyful journey we share in Christ.

Ed. — Rod White

Too numb Too hungry

Psalm 90

With one word we complain and with one word we express our most human longing, yet we’ve grown numb. With one thought we turn around to look back at our past, our communal experience, that thin shadow that has kept with us ever since. Jesus, you have been with us for all times, as our shadow protecting our backs, in unexplainable, unappreciable forms and figures, most often as our mothers, God bless their hearts.

Yet with one word, we pass the opportunity to celebrate someone’s existence and revel in the public gift of their beauty. I memorize statistics on urban failure and corporate bloodshed from the back of my smart classroom, professors in front mocking the God that’s giving me the peace not to return ignorance with more ignorance.

God, my friends ask me how they’re supposed to teach their fourth graders morality and virtue when they can’t even decide what’s right for themselves. Show us how to build this divine center, yes, establish the work of our hands

When the Shadow God comes with his one word, his miraculous act, bringing forth love from the most destitute of earthly saints and sometimes even us Christians, we might say the word and believe…go, and walk on water.

Whether we know it or not, we are building some kind of kingdom out there, taking in some kind of truth, paying homage to some kind of God. Even when I think I’m following the blueprint, my bricks usually go in the wrong spot, but I’m still trying my best anyway because I know at least there is a blueprint — grand, expansive truth beyond me.

Establish the work of our hands, yes establish the work of our hands.

God, you build into my life and I keep trying to board up the most immediate vacant rooms through my encapsulation stabilization policy like they’re doing on Norris Street.

Heal the scar tissue of my foundation -- that I might understand this sacred wound, a worthy gift. Establish the cornerstone. I feel the rocky ground I come from gives me a disadvantage….like I’m starting a new round of Solitaire already in the hole…so what’s next? is my prayer.

Give us an abundance as large as the debt we’ve brought to you. I make your burden heavier every day, so make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we’ve seen trouble and had not believed in your church. Yes, establish the work of our hands, in one word, today, this day, in one encounter. (Look who’s demanding from the giver of good gifts?)

Right now, the pendulum of transformation is off to the races, and sometimes we’ll get it, and other times, we’ll not, and others times I just won’t care, and still other times we’ll give it out so much that we’ll never need it again.

I see a line as long as the sky, where families and children and blurry faces are coming out of Egypt and the ghettos and abusive relationships with purple eyes and silent treatments from conservative fathers…all hoping with hope’s extreme, standing on their tippy toes to reach that promised land. And all I can do is want to help, flash my good intention badge, and look up the most consoling verse my concordance has to muster. My God, MY GOD…from everlasting to this morning…hear us…bring us peace in this tension as we hold together dis-realities and paradoxes, not tug of war, because you’re at both sides and it is finished. This life is yours. Amen. Take me I love you. I love you.

Ryan Bowers

this depicts relational/emotional circles i seemingly repeat. autumn was literal but figurative in the changing of seasons of the heart as well.

a thin man and

a weight-gained divorcee

(a dichotomous story of me)

i feel fall today.

folded between the season of our 'bright eyes'

-a latent discovery whom would sing you of our perfect

sonnet. pardon all ears in my ever shaking voice

Choice:

me vs Armani?

...and the winner will be?

commence the wrestle, or shall i say

resume. (it's a foggy pennsylvania)

the tumble hurts more each time-

bruise on bruise, and i walk and not choose.

flight is my plight

yet the horse has his boy

and 'caspian' is a financial promise of

future deliverance. confusing

"getting used to" with

"liking" begets feelings of

forgotten feeling.

though, i feel fall today, per

retro verse, and trite recourse.

thinking i do

still thinking around you.

Joel Ealy

this is inspired by annie quick from stickman jones. she has this song comparing things like "the sunshine on your orange juice" as a way of jesus screaming at us that he loves us and we are beautiful. this short poem is my depressed response.
Annie says, 'I'm beautiful'

this morning, in my

rustled semi-awoke-ness

my orange juice was nowhere to be found. (to my finding)

and this my ever saddening song

i run out the door as if to outrun an ever thickening callous.

Joel Ealy

i was really struggling with what was truth- i think it's me coming to grips on my own how i believe that Christ is God incarnate-and that christianity is not some mere religion but it's the teaching's of Christ as is referred to as "bloody wisdom"-that is to defeat satan's facade of the truth we want to believe.

Sanitary $ bill

The truth we all want is not what is

We challenge this world of individual

Holy-that of Christ

Could there be another, bloody wisdom?

Dare our almighty image be spotted?

Life's message, messy, stick stuff

Pumping our stainless lollipop shaped hearts

But so handsome are we

And our sanitary, dollar-bill wisdom

Rationalize opposition to that which has past lived

Those glowing eyes, seen the years

Soft hands, felt misplaced companions

Trembling lips, spoken foolishly

Floppy ears, heard whacked ideology

As the spinning on axis

Continue

We too

Indifferent

Joe Getz

[Lyrics] ...we as americans believe that we are the only human species that exist and have any significance-especially before God-sort of the whole "God bless america" bull we see everywhere.

of our own kind

it happened

all over all again

in the room where

they fill the news with print

of a story

to recognize our times

they are to glorify all innocent crimes

-remind me again-

of human kind

we'll miss you

as you leave

on our behalf

defend the income

of our God trusted land

of a story

told under sworn oath

to protect all that is our own

-remind us again-

of our own kind

Joe Getz

this poem came out of ruminations i was having on a silent retreat recently. i had come to the silence with quite a bit of pain, anxiety and confusion. as i began to let down, i started to experience an amazingly warm love from Jesus. i began to feel God loving me through my pain instead of judging me or begging me to change.

You Are the Strangest

of All Lovers

You are the strangest of all lovers.

I need not wait to remember you

by the scent on my coat,

or recall the sound of your

laughter,

or feel your fingers entwined

in mine.

You move through me,

sensibly,

sensitively,

with mystery of past

preparing for the future.

But now

(yes now)

experiencing the present.

You are the strangest of all lovers.

You need not vow to stay,

for you can't leave me.

I can't leave you.

And when I try

you wait and wait ...

and stay and stay....

You stay.

Your strange love devours

my bile and through this

alchemic process,

makes it fluid syrup.

Sweet.

Like honey.

You are the strangest of all lovers.

You desire to give and that is your pleasure;

I pleasure in your gifts and that's how

I love you. (What strange love).

Your passion is overflowing

and your desire

for my desire

to be passionate

is overflowing

and you want me to want you,

but not only you,

for your strange love

desires that my love

become bigger

through you

to give to all those you love.

For you are not exclusively mine,

but you are exclusively mine.

(Are you not a strange lover?)

You are the strangest of all lovers.

Your love is dangerous.

It creates waves in me

and those around me

and it feels as if I'm drowning,

but this is a feeling I seek to encounter

again and again.

The outcome of pain

is luminous

and bright,

because you, strange lover,

encounter me there.

Your curious ways

allow me to take you

to the hot,

burning,

toxic place within me

that no other lover has gone (or should go).

You are the strangest of all lovers.

You see my deception,

my inclination to leave

and you do not chastise me.

(How strange you are)

in that when I run-

you don't run after me-

you run with me.

You pursue me

and hold me gently

and become one with me

so I am not lonely

in my yearning to go.

And your strange love embraces me-

reminds me in a fissure of time

that your strange love is for eternity.

For you are the strangest of all lovers.

Angie Petersen

[Lyrics]….about me as an artist trying to understand my place in life-knowing that it is different from my role models- also it's the artist coming to grips that the realities of living and how making ends meet -also on another level it can be someone prone to a lifestyle that is dangerous.

like father

i do know what i don't want to become

i don't know how to not make it happen to me

so surprised by the outcome

i knew it looked too easy

"nothing's for free" had no meaning

when the water was always running

have to make a living

as it impedes

how to live a meaning

and meet your needs

so deceiving

i do know what i don't want to become

Joe Getz

It's basically about jealousy and how it can transform a frail, insecure person into a torrent of anger and hate

Tearing Wings from Angels

that which rises above will be thrown down hard

the pile of mangled bodies and broken limbs

disfiguring beauty

a fairy shrieks

her wings ripped from her

once evoking enchantment

now resembling a damaged housefly

mutilated by wicked children

jealous of her flight

a bride's tears wash away her gorgeous face

as her dress is fed to the flames

scorned by those enraged by her happiness

the agony of the innocent

blood and ashes

left in the wake of tortured souls turned ogre

worthless self-image feeds the inferno of hatred

delicate fingers transformed into razor talons

fangs dripping with caustic envy

sobbing and laughter

the scales of misery

shifted by the devastation of the pure

but not disparately

rather the whole apparatus sinks further downward

an ugly veneer seems more appealing

when contrasted with the surrounding desolation

the desolation of a pretty face clawed apart

but the beauty within has shriveled to nothing

a dual metamorphosis

thus is the fury of inferiority

Jon Olshefski

basically it's about searching...

3 paths to passive extinction

dehydration

crawling in the desert wastes of life

searching for true knowledge

parched soul aching

all fluids purged along with the expulsion of prior notions

squinting through hallucinations seeking truth, not for what it offers,

but only for its reality

to search for reasonable explanations

to pre-existing beliefs and hopes is to drink from the flask of fools

taking comfort in lies

gulping salt water

only when there is a willingness to accept truth no matter its proclamation

regardless of its morbidity and despondence

or absurdity of its beauty

can you ever hope to drain its fountain of miracles

for only in truth is there hope

all else is meaningless deception

a sea of empty promises, a tantalizing oasis

dry gasps echoing beneath my skin

my eyes water as i gag upon another mouthful of sand

Jon Olshefski

i wrote it thinking about the difference between appearance and perception, endless commodification, and the ways that we (mis)communicate.

“to my little pokerface:

when it comes to phones, i’m all eyes.

yesterday i saw a photo of you

with your hands curved into glass.

doesn’t that chill you?

but it’s okay: i’m high on american flag,

and i own an asteroid. certified.

you should see the picture.

oh, can’t talk now:

my information superhighway is running down my leg.

with love from

the official state kiss”

Sharon Nowak

This is my poem for community.

Keep

keep

this on your wheel and heart

we are the call of the silent scream

cracked flat with pleading tones

layered with starvation and bitter winds

we are the arms of an answer

laid out in wood

we are the crawl of a past too

known to hasten

the stream too furious to bide

the notes too shrill to resolve

we are the answer seekers

locating only

simply the frenzied

surrender of motion

this is the air I breathe

this is the life I drink

quiet

we are merely

we are the morning

we are now.

Brooke Sexton

[Lyrics]...from the collection on the CD titled “Forest Glen” with Rachel Toliver’s collaboration…. A time of thinking how relationships with God and others work out in the grand scheme of things.

Up in Found

Where I’m going I cannot take you

where I’m going I cannot take myself

and still we resurrect these ladders

only to climb only to find

That nothing’s better than falling from this place

and finding flying on the wings of grace

the down that takes me up and all around

the lost that tangles ties me up in found

and we will walk together

hand in hand in some spirit vibe

with no more rings to cover

no more things to hide no worries that tide

That nothing’s better than falling from this place

and finding flying on the wings of grace

the down that takes me up and all around

the lost that tangles ties me up in found

Some how some where these hands liken to quest

when the meaning is in the beating of the rhythm of flesh

but this now and forever placed in our hearts

is the answer to the question that stops to start

cause There’s nothing better than falling from this place

and finding flying on the wings of grace

the down that takes me up and all around

the lost that tangles ties me up in found.

Forest Heinzenknecht

Some people in my past, teachers in particular, have tried to feed on my thoughts, and drink, uninvited, at the river of my consciousness.

who would have thought they would be with me now?

like termites or parasites

they removed me

piece by piece

until

with their tiny mouths

they had made

tiny holes

crawled inside,

curled their tales

the deeper they crawled

the more they became me

filling their bellies with

my laughter,

my outrage,

my astonishment,

embarrassment,

until they had ventured

right

to the middle

there they wait, unable to proceed

they are able to eat things from it

but they cannot enter

the river

my thoughts keep them alive

peace will be

to starve them all to death

and make room for the

breath

of God

Devin Greenwood

I have always been in love with thunderstorms i think particularly because my mom had this obsessive fear of them and would send us all to the basement with flashlights and candles whenever one approached

Oh Sunderer of darkness

i see Your reverent shadows of gray come near

serenity graces Your every essence

the engulfing power gently brushes my fear

then allows it past my enchanted presence

as most normally do i commonly flee

seeking shelter in my artificial home

then i watch You from glass windows distantly

yet tonight i rest out here with You alone

the gentle touches of Your glistening rain

the thoughtful caresses of Your loving wind

wash away memories of yesterday’s pain

and whisk away doubts burning deep within

Your radiant flames rush upon these bound lands

the pounding waves of sound roll in from above

oh sunderer of darkness to unchain hands

filling caves of my soul with immortal Love.

Scott Krueger, July 93

My Sunday afternoon sad feeling ended up on paper.

evensong

the faucet cries

as I rinse the soap

from saturday’s dishes,

and the hand towel

hangs forlorn

(kyrie eleison)

in sunday’s last

hourglass

grains

rain slides down

the window

slightly cracked

open

this spectral air

steals into the room

gathering grey

around me

singing

(christe eleison)

… do I listen to

sunday’s heart break

or is it my own that

I rehearse on this piano?

I can no longer distinguish

whose tears wash

my cheeks, my hands…

(kyrie eleison)

Jessica Lindsay

Let’s end with more poetry from the Bible. First from Job 28:12-28

But where can wisdom be found?

Where does understanding dwell?

Man does not comprehend its worth;

it cannot be found in the land of the living.

The deep says, `It is not in me';

the sea says, `It is not with me.'

It cannot be bought with the finest gold,

nor can its price be weighed in silver.

It cannot be bought with the gold of Ophir,

with precious onyx or sapphires.

Neither gold nor crystal can compare with it,

nor can it be had for jewels of gold.

Coral and jasper are not worthy of mention;

the price of wisdom is beyond rubies.

The topaz of Cush cannot compare with it;

it cannot be bought with pure gold.

"Where then does wisdom come from?

Where does understanding dwell?

It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing,

concealed even from the birds of the air.

Destruction and Death say,

`Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.'

God understands the way to it

and he alone knows where it dwells,

for he views the ends of the earth

and sees everything under the heavens.

When he established the force of the wind

and measured out the waters,

when he made a decree for the rain

and a path for the thunderstorm,

then he looked at wisdom and appraised it;

he confirmed it and tested it.

And he said to man,

`The fear of the Lord--that is wisdom,

and to shun evil is understanding.'"

...And finally from Philippians 2:1-12. Paul supplies the motivation for the poem he quotes: “If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing,

taking the very nature of a servant,

being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to death--

even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place

and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed--not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence--continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.”

Readers Respond

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