Befuddled
A POEM
A slow befuddled winter fly
With 747 abandon
Has trundled from my window sill
And God knows what he’ll land on.
Such geriatric flies present
A crisis to compassion:
To smear them or to leave them space
To die in their own fashion.
You May Also Enjoy
The Prodigal Father and His Child
“Well, Father, my share of the farm has
been turned into gold.
I take it…
What Is the Purpose of Poetry?
Poetry was once understood to be an anthropological episteme, a way of knowing, if only through a glass darkly.
Prayer after Communion
Body, flesh and blood, feeling.
I have been here before, kneeling
in the snow, in…