Compassion
A POEM
Ice in the spirit
Is but frozen tears
And bitterness
Is expectation killed.
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My very breath seems evidence of You.
My pulse throbs with a Spirit not…
Processional (upon seeing Dürer’s woodcut of Roswitha)
By Dürer’s hand, I saw her kneeling down
Before the Emperor: Roswitha — she
Who…
Thaws
Around our March balcony tonight
Fog closes its slight hand — illusive blue —