"Wheels Turning Inward" is a is a rich collection of over fifty poems, following a poet’s mythic and spiritual journey that crosses easily onto the paths of many contemplative traditions. The artwork at the top of this page, is one image found in the Gordon Moore Memorial stain glass window at Trinity Episcopal Church in Houston, Texas, by the artist Kim Clark Renteria. The image of these three circles, is emblematic of both the Trinity and the title for this new collection of poetry now available from Friesen Press.

Sunday, April 18, 2010


Beginning in the first moments

after the Sufi poet Rumi was born

pieces of him over time, began

dissolving into all the elements of earth

like sugar in water, and to this very day

he is with us still, we breathe his breath

in the air, we taste his words

in food grown from our good earth

we find the essence of his verses

floating like seeds of light

locked inside the molecules from his

body and being in the very water we drink

his verses when spoken out loud

are an invocation to the Holy Spirit

they ripen us like wheat

for a harvest of the heart

his words are written inside the chambers of our

hearts like a holy sacrament, he who searched for

God the beloved, or Allah if you wish, in church

and shrine and mosque, to find him finally

tucked inside the pocket of his own heart

can we as Christian, Jew, or Muslim

do any less, to bring an everlasting

peace unto the world, to be as one

Ron Starbuck
Copyright 2010

Luke 11:33-34 (21st Century King James Version)

"No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they that come in may see the light.  The light of the body is the eye. Therefore, when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light.”

Matthew 6:21-22 (21st Century King James Version)

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.  The light of the body is the eye. If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Vassar Miller

Ah, Vassar, tell me that it
was only yesterday and
not twenty five years
ago nearly.

When we were sitting
in your living room together,
while you listened to me
reading my first poor verse.

I loved our time together then,
drinking Coca Colas in six once bottles, you with
a plastic straw because that was easiest. Sucking
up life as much as you could with quiet desperation.

And I loved how your little dog
Cricket, would look at us
with the kindest of eyes,
knowing how good the company

was for us both. He was wise in dog
years and understanding then, as I loved
how he reminded me too of Toto from
the Wizard of Oz. Which was always

more than appropriate, since to the
world you were and are still
a wizard with words, spinning out
verse like golden threads and

weaving together each phrase
carefully and thoughtfully as if
they were made of fire and light
that could both burn and enlighten our minds.

You taught me how to listen, oh so
carefully, haltered as you were
in your speech, grinding out each word
with such loving labor, milling them down

to the finest of flour. I could see how
quick your mind moved, and how slow
the words would come falling out of your mouth
frustrating you beyond measure.

Still, you continued, the work was
that important, wasn’t it? Passing on
whatever you could from one
generation to the next.

If heaven is as bright and wonderful as we
wish, then my wish is for you is to be an
angel of verse, whispering in our ears a word or
two that will continue to heal the world.

Our world needs such healing still, we need
words that will lead us into the deepest
places of our being, where the stillness
waits with compassion and wonder.

Pain was your steady companion
all your life, and you faced loneliness
each single day, like a back pew Christian
no one notices entering into God’s holy house.

And yet, I suspect now, with your many tongues untied,
that you are shouting out verses across all
the heavens. Stitching together lines like sutras
and weaving together a tapestry of brightness

and light, that causes all of creation to take note
of you, and your voice. You have come home you know.
You have come home to the cradle of Christ, holding
the Incarnate Word like an infant close to your heart.

You who loved words and poetry so well, and spoke
with eloquence I am still grasping for now. I wish
your words would enter my mouth, spinning out again
and again a peace to repair the world.

Ron Starbuck
Copyright 2010

I first met Vassar Miller around 1987, when I signed up for a poetry writing class she held in her home on Vassar Street (named after her mother, Vassar Morrison), close to the museum district of Houston.  She lived in a small cottage, in a neighborhood that her father as an architect and builder helped to develop back in the 1930's.  

Vassar suffered from cerebral palsy.  Her body was bent and her speech broken, you had to listen to her very carefully to understand each word as it fell out of her mouth.  She attended both St. Stephen's Episcopal Church and Covenant Baptist Church in Houston, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon.  These two sacred communities were her lifelines to the world.  I took her to church once at St. Stephens, and she may have had some influence on me later becoming an Episcopalian.

The last time I saw her was in 1991 or 1992, when I stopped by her home just to say hello and to share a new poem.  She was always excited to have visitors, especially ones who were brave enough to share their poetry with her.  Life has this way of picking us and taking us on new journeys and new adventures.  I inevitably got caught up in my career at work and single life, until one day I met the woman I would one day marry.  So, sadly, Vassar and I lost contact with one another in her final years.  And that is something I still regret to this very day.  Still, she taught me a love of poetry, her poetry especially; instilling in me a desire to write good poetry.  Here I am years later, in another life outside the corporate world, trying my best to do exactly that and to write good poetry.

I like to think that she is smiling at my efforts and cheering me on still, as she once did when we first crossed each other's path.  My experience of Vassar as teacher and mentor was one of great patience and gratitude.  Not so much from me, although I was, but from her.  She loved the company and the chance to interact with others, to build relationships, for her that was a true blessing.

If you would like to read some of the work of Vassar Miller, here is a link that will take you to several of her poems.


Wiki link:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vassar_Miller

One More:  http://www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=magazine.article&issue=soj0005&article=000531

A Vassar Miller Reader
Adam’s Footprint. The New Orleans Poetry Journal Press, 1956.
Wage War on Silence. Wesleyan University Press, 1960.
My Bones Being Wiser. Wesleyan University Press, 1963.
Onions and Roses. Wesleyan University Press, 1968.
If I Could Sleep Deeply Enough. Liveright Publishing Corporation, 1974.
Small Change. Wings Press, 1976.
Approaching Nada. Wings Press, 1977.
Selected and New Poems, 1950-1980. Latitudes Press, 1981.
Struggling to Swim on Concrete. The New Orleans Poetry Journal Press, 1984.
Despite This Flesh. University of Texas Press, 1985.
If I Had Wheels or Love, Collected Poems. Southern Methodist University Press, 1991.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The Parousia (Divine Presence)

how do you imagine it may happen
will it come all at once, suddenly
as so many say,
with the echo of Gabriel’s trumpet sounding

through the ears of all humanity?
have you ever anticipated
what you may be doing, at the moment
when Christ comes again

or is the Parousia something else
altogether, a newness of the spirit
we have never thought of before
something we can envision

and embrace even now
beyond all expectation, surprising
in the soft gentleness of its coming
O Lord, I have often imagined

Christ’s Second Coming
as something more than we may begin
to comprehend in this weary world
a binding of the Incarnate Word to

our soft flesh and hard bone
the inner meaning of God’s
deeper Word opening up within
the most vulnerable places

of the human heart
as tenderly and as wholly as a rose opens
under the warmness of sunlight
Christ is the rose then

blooming with brightness
filling us up with a newer light
a revelation if you will
an enlightenment even, that

welcomes him as this Second Coming
O Christ, let the Advent
of thy Second Coming
come upon us all like a great brightness

opening our hearts to your Word
the Word made flesh, this is what
we find in the celebration of the
Eucharist, the Great Thanksgiving

where you come to dwell in each of us
and we in you, and we in you

Ron Starbuck
Copyright 2010

Thursday, April 1, 2010

A Healing Hymn (for Kylene)

this is a poem, a healing hymn
a prayer most especially
for a friend with breast cancer

a reader and writer of books
a teacher of teachers, of many children
a wife and a mother of two

it is a prayer not just for her
but for all the women
who have struggled, again and

again with breast cancer
my aunt was one of them
and yet she lived a long and full life

generous in spirit
generous in love
generous in hope

there is a healing
there is a healing
there is a healing

I say this three times now
that we may all join in
it is a healing

of the heart, of the body
it is a deep healing
of the spirit and of the soul

it is a healing found, through
the compassion we give to others
to those we love and even the stranger

this is my prayer
this is my prayer
this is my prayer

I say this three times too
pray it with me, pray it
out loud with a strong sure voice

let the light of God’s love
the love within you each
be joined to flesh and bone

let such a love
enter into every cell and organ
let it rush in passionately and fully

through every vein and artery
through the blood and heart
down deep into every molecule

into genes and DNA
healing each single one
filling them with a light

a light of healing
that repairs the body
and transforms the soul

let this be a healing hymn
a hymn of praise and wonder, one
that echoes throughout creation

let this healing be the next
great thing, let these words
and thoughts shape such a reality

and teach us all, of the
infinite possibilities of love
found in life, the blessing of life

let life call out to life
and love call out to love
let it be so, always

this is my prayer
this is my prayer
this is my prayer

I say this again, three times three
pray it with me please, sing it
out loud with a strong sure voice

Ron Starbuck

Copyright 2010

Here is a link to Kylene's blog, where she is sharing the story of her journey.  If you read this please say some prayers and send some healing thoughts.

As of Tuesday, 4-21-10, Kylene has been told by her medical team that she is 100% cancer free.