A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Last night, while I was at the piano,
my landlady pounded the butt end of a rusty musket
against my chamber door.
To all appearances, she hates my sonata.
Our Father who art in me
You are the One I love
The One who hurt me
The One who seeks the truth
Honestly, sometimes, I envy the dead, Those dearly departed, whose exits, however peaceful or wrenching, Were always underwritten by the knowledge that Life endures, and that Hope of Eternal Life . … Continue reading →
The fist that held your heart releases, the hot knife of your shame turns to water, the kernels of blackened corn by which you counted your imagined crimes, are carried … Continue reading →
Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.
Join 10,768 other followers
Enter email address.
Blog at WordPress.com.