The Antidote

Open the hatch inside my heart,
From there remove the painful dart
That works where I am most distressed,
Remove it from my wounded chest

To your living heart convey
The dart and lift the door away,
Place the weapon so it drip
The toxin from the point of it

It is your gift to neutralize
The poison of which sadness dies,
Then replace the dart in me,
It will not seep so morbidly

The weapon in the heart of me
Of unforgotten memory,
But keep the dart a while before
The health of you my heart restores

Not As You Are

What regret can you have? I have given you life -Take the sharp end from a thorn and the edge from the knife,The ache from the leg and the back, and never old age,And from the enjoyment of sin remove… Read More

The Flesh of Earth…

The flesh of Earth was sick todayAnd did not rise from sleep,Summer forests drained to gray,The oceans black and deep
Sleepers did not wake from dreamsNor flowerings unfold,Desiccated lay the streams,Blood and flesh were cold
Who will raise my corpse… Read More

Morning Snow

Wash your hands in morning snowBefore the scars of earth have scoredThe skin of it with iron plows,Trampled, fouled and ignored
Weightless when it falls and stark,Soundless in enormity,Numberless, a jeweler's work,Intricate severity
Melted in the human handA phase transition… Read More

Release

She was looking for something to save her from death Or at least to put obstacles under his feet, Keep him from rising to conquer her breath, Smother her heartbeat, the merciless thief
Perhaps if she filled up the room… Read More

To Cover the Wounds

Within the old fort, in the woods overgrown Near the mound where they buried the magazine To store their cruel iron a thicket grows — A young doe naps in the afternoon
Behind the green leaves her rough bed hides… Read More

Who Made You for the Dark?

Darkling beetle, black and shining jewel, What jeweler could have formed you, with what tool? What burr or jig or pliers set your shape, On what suspended rod your armor draped, On which round mold your head and thorax bent,… Read More

She Grips Me Tightly

The one who falls, is falling reaches for me, The weakened hand grips tightly as it can, That which pulls her backwards grips her firmly, Down into the blackness of the wound
Desiccated blood, not salt, it does not weep… Read More

A Crime of Blood

I thought about the city precinct houseWhere fierce corrupt detectives in white shirts And ties enforced the scared obedience Of those who lived around them in apartments
Prisoners were beaten on the streetBefore they even entered to be booked, And… Read More

Night Rain

The midnight rain deforms all footprintsEven in the garden of Gethsemane — How can we follow what no one can see? The weight of Him bends not even the violets
What trail or trace in the souls of us, Where… Read More

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