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.
You May Also Enjoy
Blood, Water, Wine - Sacrament - Paradox Regained
Blood, Water, Wine
The midwife washed the blood and
water from the…
To Angela, Who Is Afraid of Clowns
Clowns are grandfathers
painted with strokes of laughter
who kiss lollipops
but never lick them.
…
Processional (upon seeing Dürer’s woodcut of Roswitha)
By Dürer’s hand, I saw her kneeling down
Before the Emperor: Roswitha — she
Who…