Aurora
Potent as a potion, the light of sun
pours into the eyes; the streams of light
flood expansive skies; the draught of dawn
solaces the soul; mere mortal men
become an angels' throng; it lifts the heart,
makes half-men whole, brings hale and health.
The birds in song make ode and anthem
to golden dawn; they greet the light
that bursts from living sun; they swim
in endless glory.
Hypocrisy
I bind a thought about me for the semblance of a shame;
in soft sackcloth and ashes made from the finest wood,
I wear a tattered garment for a neatly woven name --
virtue's best reward comes when repute is good.
Revolutions
How curious it is to feel poetry fall out
pulled by gravity toward the page
as if one felt the moon fall down
without ever touching ground
That's poetry, falling and falling more
so far down it must fall up
only to fall down again
splashing the page with lines of force
but never actually touching it
It Was Saturday, I Think
It was Saturday, I think
when the world ended
Big, pink, piling clouds
brought fiery crimson rain
I looked out my bedroom window
and hell was coming down
Raining on the grass
with great hailstones of fire
I looked at my alarm clock
while the voice of God was thundering
It was about five-thirty
I contemplated martyrdom
But just when back to bed
