I love you, gentlest of Ways,

Who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

You, the greatest homesickness we could never shake off,

1 comments View Entry

Loud as a trumpet
In the vanguard of an army
I will run ahead and proclaim.

My words will be sweet to hear.
My people will drink them like wine
And not get drunk.

And on spring nights, when few remain
Around my tent, I will make music as soft
As northern Aprils, that hover,
Late and tender, around each leaf.

So my voice becomes both a breath and a shout.
One pr... Read More

1 comments View Entry

We are not poor. We are just without riches,

We who have no will, no world:

Marked with the marks of the latest anxiety,

Disfigured, stripped of leaves.

0 comments View Entry