"I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger," Mistolinic Text
I am a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world of woe. But there's no sickness, toil, or danger In that far land to which I go. I'm going there to see my father. Said he would meet me when I come. I'm only going into the...
Blank Verse Essay On the Treachery of Hope
You must learn how to live and not to hope For hope will be a luxury ere long. For hope can be both manacle and chain. For hope can keep you too spellbound to run Until the waters rise too high, and boil. You would not be the first. In ages...
I Ask Myself How Is It I Have Come
I ask myself, how is it I have come, Still so far from the sunset of my days, (I pray tis not yet sunset on my days) Unto some chamber in the maze of life Where it is possible to hear you say 'I miss you' and 'I feel your absence in The...
Autoimmune Scarring of the Myelin Sheath
The coming summer heat looks to be cruel As ever it has been. Grey autumn can Not easily come soon enough for me. And what an evil fate is ours, my love, That such embittered words should ring so true. That at the highest loft of light and...
History Repeats Because Those Who Write It Write Repetition
First they came for the socialists, and I spoke out-- Because I had read That Poem. Loved its pathos, Its tragedy, And its warning. They came for natives, black people, immigrants, refugees-- And I spoke out. They came for the poor...
The Ballad of Terry Chaplet
Miss Chaplet wandered down the winding path of Memorial Park, lingering by each knot of conversation long enough to get the gist of the current story. If anyone had been watching, they'd maybe describe her as looking at each like camp like someone...
Ragnarok - I
Somewhere it was autumn, and the trees Hung undecided, torn between the fear Of concrete skies and black obsidian nights And clung to fading leaves, yet still they felt A dark desire to let the summer drop, To scatter to the wind their...
Ragnarok - VII
"I died not," Varr breathed shallowly, "I woke Midmorning, by a gentle brook. How far I'd skirmished from satanic swamplands I Had no surmise. Three days I nursed my wounds, And then I took the mission meant for Luke, To warn the Old Man. As I...
Eight Minutes and Forty Six Seconds on June Twelfth, Two Thousand Twenty
The rain continues. No thunder dares ring. No winds howl. All is silence, save the sound Of distant trucks down on the interstate. I tell myself, pretend it is the sea That all this rain, perhaps, will wash into. And I remain in silence. What must...
Rust River Valley Rail Crossing Three, Pop. 527
From the valley they say you are going I can see why you would. And I know As the slow grinding years Grind the hills into tears Each year grinds a little more slow. From this valley they say you are going. From this hopeless collection of...
Autumn Interrupts
It's easy to forget what autumn means In tired lands of sun-stuffed tedium; Assassin breeze the blackfly never weans, The forecast is extremely medium. It's easy to forget those ragged skies Crushed, throttled, splintered by the frigid light ...
And I Shall Rest
Sun going down. And I am far from home. Sun going down. And I'm out there alone. On the roads, I'm one more weary soul Searching for some place where I'll be whole. With my loaded backbone bending And the pain jolts up my arm. I will reach...