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“Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know”


Will wonder still us or start us?

Should we be silent beset by things

Too wonderful to understand?

Then speech is impossible.

Words unraveled from tongues telling,

Oh, telling till telling is told,

Run threadlong back,

A fuse of fire seeking source,

The shape of the shaft momently unmade

In the making –

The making unmaking,

The matchlight of measureless love.

Every twitch a twitch upon the thread,

And every gig a trot on graves –

Yes, graves, but groaning for glory at doom.

What if speech is the deepest silence there is,

And stammering gloss the gargoyle crown

Of the Christword?

Link letter to letter and letter to spirit

Link letter to letter, these letterbones dance and sing.

Inexpressable expressed, pressed,

Crushed for transgression;

The life giving tree is tapped for the balm of his blood.

Two days I grant, but three cannot hold him,

This shout from the mouth of God

Is God

And the cosmos all reels ecstatic,

The Beloved has whispered her ear:

Let her hear;

Let her bear




Be still.