The Westminster Confession of Funk: Life Leaves Scars

Old Man at the Blueberry Bushes

Blueberry bushes brush bungling hands. Hands heavy with age —quivering unhelpfully— gather taste gushing gems of tang. No rot. No root-break. The ripped branches are simply savaged off by shaking old hands. Hands tired of being bound- back for decades. Held mute by...
The Westminster Confession of Funk: Life Leaves Scars

Song of Your Own

SONG OF YOUR OWN People take on the shape of the songs and stories that surround them, especially if they don’t have a song of their own. Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys Like the slender-ankled daughters of ocean  shaped by the banks that decide their path,  we are...
The Westminster Confession of Funk: Life Leaves Scars

Wing Lift

Wing Lift Psalm 91:3-4 Death-wrenched, life-drenched, each pinched soul fledged to soar on raptorial sails. A fowler-freed fire-bred goldfinch, carols unhitched, stretching and reaching, on wind-held wings. Held in glide and lift, windhover pinion, piloted upwards,...