yesterday morning the newly-fallen flakes
lay large and lacy atop the earlier shroud of snow
All articles filed in poetry
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?
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
meaning no more
here is a poem
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