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A Poem for All Saints Day- sometimes I cannot always be there
body fall in the truck with a crash of dust."
I love this... how crashes are supposed to be loud and heavy, and the dust is silent - but it floats away to infiltrate other places.. I don't know what I'm trying to say, I just love the image. This is great.
in a culdesac. Fran's weekend work bought the wrought iron fence, each bar topped with a bulbous spike.
There's a whole novel in that one line. But I have to ask, where did this come from?
The poetic answer is that this poem must have come from the same place all "new" creation comes from—that same "Heav'nly Muse" who helped Milton sing
"Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat..."