Sun Again
“The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’” -C.S. Lewis
Ode of the English Teacher's Dog
This is the worst of times. I, a single dog in possession Of a particularly dirty tennis ball, Am in want of you. I wanted to play yesterday, And the larks, bravely singing,
Seasons' Induction
I miss the birdcalls. Now through my window flashing seeps The siren-gusts hurtling around my apartment building. I miss green leaves. Through the curtains, The metallic sky stares at me From the other
The Cry
“Why?” demands Your child again; I’m injusticed, tired, petulant. “If you are God, then why?” No reason comes. I kick my feet Until You call and face me toward I AM. You
City Lights
You two asked me to come with you one Friday night, And I agreed. We sat on the floor of an empty room of an art show With a piece showing rain falling
Bone Weary
When the shadows grew long, I fell in a field and buried my face in the dirt. My sleep I gave to lengthen the days, My muscles to run through walls, My brain
Finding Me
Was ever a desperate search so Peaceful as this? What path was so foggy and Calm as mine? What shapeshifter ever so Certain as I? I am revealed Without looking. God has not