yesterday morning the newly-fallen flakes
lay large and lacy atop the earlier shroud of snow
All articles filed in poems
ash wednesday
when i woke the snow
was once more falling
winter’s blight
what once was whole has now been riven
and the guilty soul bows to be shriven
is there such a thing
is there such a thing as “the ugly truth”
or is truth, no matter how hard —
no matter how painful —
no matter how hard we wish it were not so —
vanquished is the lonely night
look, light has broken
on the darkened world
vanished is the lonely night —
eternity dawns
eternal and finite
Jehovah, how can
One so great become so small?
Yahweh, a baby?
everything — and us
poor, his bed is not
even his to claim
at least in human reck’ning
could this be the one
ev’ry soul longs for?
eternity sleeps
here on a hay bed
open eyes shine black
peering from a tiny face
even still womb-wet
spaces
what fills the spaces in between?
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borrowed fields
this, and my dreams, are all i bring
for i, being poor, know naught else to do
