Five after eight
Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling
Traversal
My dad saw Aunt Bess
In a dream
walking with a stick
on a mountaintop.
“She spoke with the dead,”
he said.
“Just like me.”
“That makes three,”
Janke said,
“for you do too.”
And yes, I guess it’s true.
I’ve gathered up the spiritual bullets at least
Snatched from the air what was headed
your and my way, ensnaring and melting
them into the ghostly ploughshare I use
to prepare this common ground
Negotiation
Is in my heart a dam
Would God but break it down
Foreword
Readiness in light of a simple discernment
Love is not a scrubby little power we muster,
a scrambling to order affairs according to our
own perception of goods (that scaffolding we build
to lift our heart to heaven), but rather
concession of the self to the power that would
remake us, were we to allow it, into the giving
person we always hoped we’d be. I say:
Bring it on!
Ordinary daylight
Dream tower
Utrecht Journal 