Who sticks the neck out
hears the critic’s silver
slice blade cuts form
from crooked content
opens up the seer
odor of incense near
Mea culpa mea culpa mea
little bit of culpa anyway
to be taken seriously
but the soul smiles
and laughing Jesus
miracles tease us
Faith’s apprehension
bad ease dour doldrums
then crisp ring the bells
it’s Christmas morn
passes the dull storm
from this spirit born