Befuddled
A POEM
A slow befuddled winter fly
With 747 abandon
Has trundled from my window sill
And God knows what he’ll land on.
Such geriatric flies present
A crisis to compassion:
To smear them or to leave them space
To die in their own fashion.
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Beatitude in Blue
Enveil God’s face, winged seraphim
Before the dazzling throne:
The onyx clouds cannot hide Him
…
To Angela, Who Is Afraid of Clowns
Clowns are grandfathers
painted with strokes of laughter
who kiss lollipops
but never lick them.
…