laying tile, prying up tile, moving on

bag of grey dust
water from freshly plumbed pipe
in this cauldron
my witches brew

no meek man could turn
the recipe is thick
two fisted bent stick
chalk becomes a slurry

strategize to curb stress
chalk lines and internet
mesh back headdress
still must lay first stone

puddy knife paint brush
and back scratching trowel
sling mud across sub floor
mind searching for oh shit bar

escaping crisis with each stone
grout lines narrow
chalk lines gone missing
crafting this mistake

more water more batter
stone must be cut
saw must be repaired
knees and blade whine

each ridged stroke
gives way to unique square
slowly sub floor sleeps
joists long forgotten

sunset, elephant ass, and three great hugs

for the past few days my body has seen a lot of americas road. from chat, to chicago, to lake havasu. with the help of meg and a snotty gps, we have gotten off course, but never lost. been blessed to see my gram and my sister.

just a glimpse of my classroom. the jolly students below are the artists. they also memorize poetry and quotes every other week.

standardized test, like a Midwest tornado, is fast approaching. leaving no child left behind, and no government provided storm shelter. at times i feel defeated, the wind is picking up and my students are wanting to lie down.

if anyone is reading this that is tweaking with NCLB, may i suggest green tea, and a paint brush.

taking suggestions

put yourself in my shoes. i walk into tevis's (mr.knights's) class the other day and notice that the teacher he normally works with is not there. in her place is an innocent substitute. (at rossville, innocent substitutes are preyed upon like baby chinstrap penguins attempting to get to the open waters through the sea lion filled break) as i began to speak with tevis about his lovely situation i notice a student flip a rubberband at the substitute, whizzing inches from her 50's style fro.

what would you do? be creative, no corporal punishment, and suspension is rarely punishment for these gems.

this was my solution, i am sure that yours looks similiar.

he had to write 20 of these babies.

inside my head a fly did land
and yes it spoke to me.
it said to shoot a rubberband
and then write poetry.
i do not like to obey
and i do make bad decisions.
the fly was my boss today
tomorrow i'll listen to reason.


perhaps no teacher of the year solution, but it was effective and entertaining.

the new thirty?

Now that i am thirty i reflect on much. i feel like i can finally say with complete confidence and honesty that i did not fall off the turnip truck last night. it was actually closer to 11,000 nights ago. and as i think back, so much is blurred, like these pictures. selective memories, unwanted tragedies, but love too. i was a bit worried about turning a lovely 30, but it was great.

i celebrated with meg and some friends in chucktown. i am thirty, and i am so wonderfully happy.

rossville breezeway

fall is death
breath cold, visible.
the sky like bondo.
seems very near.
wind whizgigging, punishes.
leaves dance to the dirge.
eyes sweating steel,
smile cracked.

americana folk festival

maybe i need a mouse

today is no ordinary saturday. a few hours ago i experienced a subculture that few realize exist. i most certainly had no knowledge of these courageous, imaginitive, over smiling and apparently unbusied people. these are the people that i found during a morning visit to the local mall. i enter the mall and it is as if i just stepped through the back of cs lewis' giant wardrobe. no, there was no snow. however, animals were bounding to and fro. a hint of urine in the air and pet dander underfoot. a quick breath on the lenses of my glasses, cause i must get a cleaner look. this cant be true. but yes, yessiree! we have got ourselves a costume contest. and the contestants...apparently any animal that you have been fortunate enough to domesticate and convince to don some rediculous apparel. i saw painted ponies, chewbacca chows, and the most heart warming labs dressed like the wicked witch of the west. and the owners, proud does not do justice to the emotion that radiated from these smiles. for the first time i realized the cause of that giant void in my life. and it hit my like a flying squirrel. of course there is a lack of purpose, a discontent, i do not own a a giant field mouse, nor the costume to dress him up so that he will look like bugs bunny.

a strange kinda thanks

a couple of weeks ago my wonderful car expressed the desire for a new engine. it did this at the expense of both convenience and my finances. and in the end, it communicated very clearly that it would not go on unless its demands were met. so being the caring owner and darn good friend, i paid the lovely people at saturn $2,700 dollars to install a brand new engine.

and she thanked me.

a week later i face planted her into a pick-up truck. i do not think this was appreciated. no one was hurt and the man i hit seemed to take it well. his only words, which he repeated for about 5 minutes, was "man, you really screwed yourself. i mean, man you have really screwed yourself" i politely thanked the man for his brilliant observation and explained how sorry i was that i bent his bumper. now my saturn sits in front of the house unable to provide transport.

but let me tell you something. i have not been inconvenient in the least. i am now like one of those friends that needs to borrow the truck so that i can move. but baby i am moving everyday and i need your help cause i got two fold out couches and a china cabinet that does not come apart.

good friends. good family. everyone has given generously. today my brother drove to my house so that i could have a car today. my good friend kelly has driven me to the airport in nashville 2 hours away and then picked me up a week later in nashville at 11 pm.

i have not been inconvenienced my friends have. friday a co-worker picked me up and drove my home. and i finally got the chance to get to know her. beautiful.

hopefully i will repair my car soon. but i woke this morning saying something like this, "thank you god for great friends, great family, new relationships, and for my wrecked car."

waiting to see Your reflection in the mud

finally, i sit, i write. it has been quite some time since my last post and the world, my life, has seen change that has made it difficult to put to words. I have sat down to this mighty box of wires countless times. I have written drafts that never made it public and i have also sat and wept unable to do what i teach my eighth graders to do, construct a simple sentence with complete subject and complete predicate. and now as i attempt to pull my poor grammer skills together, i ask in advance for your forgiveness for the many errors in these words that i string together.

today riding to school i saw an uncomfortable looking man that appeared to have just robbed the salvation army by putting on every single item of clothing in the store. to say that he was overdressed for the 70 degree morning would be an understatement that i dare not qualify. he was doubled over staring into a mud puddle and that sight gave me my best understanding of the last 5-7 months. clear as mud?

my nephew will died last tuesday. lived for 4 months. fought for 4 months. blessed many for life. died giving.

born with more physical compications than most endure in a lifetime. blessed with parents that love like christ. prayer did not bring healing, but the kingdom came.

i was always positive. and i prayed. and i thought i knew gods will. i pictured will on the tip of mikes long board, riding a wave in costa rica years down the road. i believed gods plan for will was to triumph over all his hardship reveal christ power and mercy for years to come. will died last tuesday and i have never felt so sad. never felt so foolish. to think i knew gods will. to think god allowed me to see his plan. how foolish. man i had faith.

now i sit and i feel, i sit and i see, pain. pain. so much. no answer, and yet that is what i have searched for. and i finally realize that i do not want an answer. if god was to give me an answer for this tragedy it would minimize all. will's life and death can not, must not, be minimized to some earthly answer. he was and is so much larger than my petty, self reassuring answer. will is gods radical love. painful and mystirious. merciful and just. but never understood by me.

my sister and my brother have lost a boy not bound for greatness, but one who found and lived to be great. not one who searched for gods will, but lived gods will. he was gods will. not one who searched for gods love, but fully expereinced gods love from the womb, thru death. not one who searched for a loving community but lived within a loving community since conception. will lived a hard physical life, but never once searched for love. that boy had so many loving him. i met him only twice. i met him only twice, but twice i saw an imperfect heart, an imperfect lip, and a perfect gift. perfect. beautiful, lip like mine, but a heart so much greater. all he did was give, all he did was fight. not just for his life, but for his parents, for his sister, for all those who were praying. will wanted to live, who would not want to live with the parents he had and the sister he saved.

i try to make this something good. to put a postive twist to this. but as best i write, (which is not very good) as best i think, it all seems so shitty. god says knock and he will answer. well stacy and mike pounded. god said ask, well we all begged. god said seek and i am pretty sure we all searched. i do not understand. but i believe. i love. but shit, all that it is, brings the deepest sadness, the darkest and longest night.

may the sun please rise.




thy kingdom come, quickly.

His Will

i love my family.
i am truely blessed.
i pray for my friends to experience all that my family has experienced of late,
God help me realize the beauty of it all.

i breathe deep and think of the pollen ive taken
squint at the crafted blue sky
no day was ever made better
as if the air knew what temperature my skin desired
not that i know, but every breeze brings goodness
the dandilions are pressing now, soon to conquer
perhaps waiting orders from the chick weeds
i exhale and feed the trees, we happily exchange gifts
plead with the horizon to keep the sun from setting
but i feel the moons jealousy, as if it were telling the sun its time was up
the staged entrance is well rehearsed, no glich in the exchange
and the act continues
the sky is bruised now, only bleeding at the seem
nothing appears desperate,
the ants have ceased marching.

no mattress on my saturn...yet

I would love to say that i am sitting comfortably in my newly remodeled home. Yes, it is february 1, the move in date. I was hoping to be able to strap my mattress to the top of my saturn and drive that baby over today, but i reconsidered. Once again the Lord has gifted me with discernment, and i have decided to wait until i have a proper bathroom, a room that remotely resembles a kitchen and perhaps hot water, but i do not want to get greedy. Patience has morphed into a cup of tension tamer tea. It tastes like toilet water, makes your face contort in ways you thought only happenned when you vomited, but in the end your happy as hell to be drinking it. I will be the mansion soon and hopefully we can all tame the tension at my place.

Thankfully I have brothers

I know that these pictures look like i am a long way off from moving into a comfortable home. But I have the help of two very talented brothers and a good friend that have, with enthusiasm, attacked this project. Move in date, Feb. 1, 2006.

This years fishing trip

My much anticipated fishing trip turned out to be an epic battle, not between man and fish, oh no my friends, that story has been told. This engagement was between stomach and sea. What was at stake included the following: Tasting breakfast once, or twice. Possibly having to swab the deck, or basking on the deck in glorious victory. Enjoying the spoils of the catch, or spoiling the catch with my spew. Landing dinner, or "landing" last nights dinner. The seas at time had the upper hand. There were moments when I took off my glasses and hat, hunkered to the side of the boat and showed obvious signs of retreat. But the sea never saw my white flag. And I returned to shore having given nothing to the sea.

The trip was great. At times on the boat we were all miserable. I was with three good friends and we were determined to make the most of the situation. Eight to ten foot swells with heavy rains attacked our equilibrium constantly. One of my friends did happen to feed the sea gulls with his breakfast. But no loss, he had already tasted it twice. I am not sure of the quality of that meal by the time the sea gull got his share. The captain, yes the captain had his bout with the vomit. In a fit of graceless convulsions he threw his bran flakes at the sea with disgust. At this moment fishing took a back seat to survival. We did manage to catch a few grouper, but this was the consolation. Land was the true prize.

All in all, I can not wait to do it again.

Good resume, but one hell of a thumb wrestler

I spent all morning trying to impress people. This is not a task I enjoy. More of a chore really. My new job is contingent on enrollment into an education program that would eventually lead to a teaching certificate. So this morning I danced around the university campus, did the charleston with a few secretaries and finally was able to coerce the graduate liaison into a full on waltz. All of this while it was raining and 45 degrees. Filling out applications and handing over resumes seems so old fashion and quite frankly a bit absurd. I have a new theory that might, in a moment of glory, reduce these forms to nothing more than spit ball ammunition, or in my case, the dogs urinal. No more interviews, no more applications that require you to recall the exact date and time your last boss told you to kiss off, no more middle initials, no more maiden names, no more present and yes permanent address(does this mean I can never relocate). Specifying position desired? I just want to tell'em to figure it out, I want the one that has the most pay,compensation, time off, single women in the department, retirement at 32, and possibly a position that is stationed in the Caribbean. Oh, and the joy of listing educational history/background. High school and college and yes, they want street addresses. As if that info is in the palm pilot that i do not have. Yippee, references too. I just want to say, shake my hand, listen to my voice and look me in the eye (kinda like the old west i guess) Alright I will quit this banter and give you my alternative to all of this.

Interview = Watching "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" together
Application = Sharing a beer
Resume = not sure, perhaps a thumb wrestling match would suffice

Teaching Again

Thank you for the prayers. The guy to the left has officially been offered a teaching job at a middle school. It seems every time I let my net down into the water it is filled with great things. Pray that I can learn to be truely thankful. I am very excited about the position and all that the new year will bring. Hopefully i will be in my house by February and settled in to the school setting. I will be working toward certification (schooling) as well as planning the rest of my life.

Cleansing

Pete: Well I'll be a sonofabitch. Delmar's been saved.

Delmar O'Donnell: Well that's it, boys. I've been redeemed. The preacher's done warshed away all my sins and transgressions. It's the straight and narrow from here on out, and heaven everlasting's my reward.

Ulysses Everett McGill: Delmar, what are you talking about? We've got bigger fish to fry.

Delmar O'Donnell: The preacher says all my sins is warshed away, including that Piggly Wiggly I knocked over in Yazoo.

Ulysses Everett McGill: I thought you said you was innocent of those charges?

Delmar O'Donnell: Well I was lyin'. And the preacher says that that sin's been warshed away too. Neither God nor man's got nothin' on me now. C'mon in boys, the water is fine.

This exchange is probably my favorite bit of dialogue in any movie. It cracks me up just reading it. This picture of redemption is so simple and pure, almost laughable. But I absolutely love Delmars innocence. On the one hand, Delmar seems to lack the needed intellect to process Christ's salvation, and on the other hand it is if he understands salvations completeness far better than I do. On Christmas day I will be baptized. But as this day approaches I keep asking myself "why am I doing this". I know that my ottoman in heaven does not depend on this ceremony. But this is more than a ceremony, thankfully it is my rite as a child of God. And I must take part in this sacrament that symbolizes his saving grace. Simple answer: When you are in love with someone, and they give you a gift, you accept it.

rejoice

this life
this mire
no, wait,
this pilgramage.

my praise
my pains
my hopes
knowing they will fall on good ears
they are whispered,
faithlessly, at the top of my lungs.

the body
the blood
the slain lamb
taken with a plea for help,
healing and forgiveness
in a moment of remembrance
then forgotten.


suffering
sorrow
the cursed aftertaste of the fall
causes me to see.
debilitated,
i am doubled over,
trusting grace.


clinging to the bosom,
hiding in the rock,
seeking that great shelter,
with the wind at my face
i will rejoice,
i must rejoice.

Your place or mine?

As I returned home from my vacation in DC I noticed that there was a dog in my back yard. And this dog happened to be barking and growling in my general, well, specific direction. Immediately wanting to find out which one of us was at the wrong address I peek in the kitchen window and see a couple of empty Papa Johns boxes, a loaf of bread that has not been properly closed and my roommate. I conclude that this is my place, and that some how the dog had perhaps stumbled home to the wrong address. However, for the next three days I was greeted at my driveway with a bark that sounded pretty much like "what the hell are you doing here?". The dogs name is Maggie and my roommate has unofficially given it a new home, which happens to be my home as well. We are warming up to one another, with a little help from the bologna with a first name.