This trio of poems in multiple voices imagines the journey of Jesus’ followers, from the gates of the city to the empty tomb. At the Gate He came in on a donkey, But we greeted him as a King. The crowd was huge that day. As though all of Jerusalem’s poor, tired, downtrodden had flooded into the...

“‘God did it’ isn’t an explanation,” said Joseph. He got no account for the baby’s chromosomes, No description of the mechanism that Transmuted the divine shadow into royal blood. “‘The devil made me do it’ would have sounded better to me,” said Joseph, Though it never did him...

This is the key to the mystery, The Word became flesh.

Go slow if you can. Slower. More slowly still. Friendly dark or fearsome, this is no place to break your neck by rushing, by running, by crashing into what you cannot see....

Later there were mutterings at the bar, and throughout the law courts, that Jesus only showed at the gay pride parade to love the jewel, but not the quality, to love the potluck, but not the food, to love the vessel, but not the wine, to love the hot rod, but not the driver, to love the baby, but...