Dust’s Digital Cathedral

Would That I Were

Would that I were a windy breeze, tickling the tails of tall river rush, fickle cattails browning in decline, up through the trees and above the leaves.   We would rise— invisible and present perpetually— surveying the scene as no eye can behold, for self occludes the lens of perspective. Better,

The Epistles of Fayetteville VI

Her Name Is Dust A confession from the world below — the poet remembers the vow she made before breath and dust met.   There once was a soul exiled by choice, sent on mission to the world below. Her Name is Dust.   Her soul was feminine, though she had no gender—

The Epistles of Fayetteville V: Terror in Testimony

Hey Beloved,   Today was a tough one. For the first time in my forty-five years in this country, I witnessed something that truly shook me. I cannot believe we live in a place that engenders fear of people being disappeared—one day they’re here, and the next, gone without

Psalm of Dust III — The Vocation

I write because I must.   When the Spirit moves, Dust cannot stay silent; language itself becomes breath made visible.   I write because I must. I am compelled to do it — like a moth circling flame. There is no reasoning with the path that unfolds when You move within me.   There

A Letter To My Father

Hey Dad, I used to look up to you when I was little. I remember your arms — tree trunks beside my tiny twigs — and the surety you carried before I was old enough to see the cracks beneath the surface. I wanted to be like you once. I believed every

The Second Psalm of Dust

When the world grows still enough, even the hum of traffic can sound like prayer.   She was stiller than at other times, When the light lay low and the world Was hushed as if silence had taken form, And garbed itself in traffic lights and dark, Dusty Carolinian streets at

The Epistles of Fayetteville: IV

Epistle IV – The First Breath After the Question   Hey Father,   I learned another valuable lesson today and had to share it with our friends. You hear everything, and when we ask, You truly answer — just rarely as we expect. The answer often comes in that first breath after the question,

The Epistles of Fayetteville:3

The Third Epistle of Fayetteville Two lessons found me before sunrise—both reminding me how quick the tongue can damn and how slow the heart is to see. Fayetteville remains my teacher. Hey Beloved, I’m feeling a bit worn at the edges. Kinda like one of those old, threadbare

The Psalms of Dust: 1

Are you running away, my friend? She looks hurt — aghast almost — evident in the moisture of her hazel, haloed eyes as she peers through the fading blanket of dusk, talking to it as if to a friend.   Fall upon me and shroud me, in the velvety depths of your eternal

Prayer of the Tired Dust

Companion to Epistle’s of Fayetteville 2

Clothed with the Imperishable

An essay on becoming, surrender, and the quiet miracle of divine relationship.

The Epistle of Fayetteville II: Scattered, Gathered, Formed

Conversations With God

There Is A River

The Ever Flowing Fountain

The Benediction of the Damned

The Epistle of Fayetteville

There Is a Time for Every Thing Under Heaven

Ecclesiastes Meditation in Poetry

She Wept

I Pray She Would Laugh

To Live Is Christ: To Die Is Gain

She said she saw it — not as metaphor, not as poetic language, but as something real. A glow from my iris. A halo in the dawn light.

Touched

A Hand Upon The Hem

If You Want Revival, Pray for Persecution?

True Revival not Tent Performances

Reflections Beneath

When Stillness Speaks

Lament at the Water’s Edge

Sorrow Given Voice

The Whisper Before Thunder

Should I? Would I?

The Vigil

Midnight Meditations

The Empty Page

The Creation and Initiation

The Night and the Wind

Me and Louie V