Rest Less
Cold clouds coiling around the pregnant moon. Night is calling to me. It is rising. It is soon. Secret scents nocturnal up are swelling, and above The moon rolls like a mirror of the face of her I love. I will not go outside tonight, will nor...
Evensong for Flock and Pack
Save me a place by the fireside, love, For nightfall's outrun me again. There's miles upon miles I must walk somehow, There's burdens on burdens I'm carrying now, And when I come home--which I will, I vow-- I'll be needing that fireside then. For...
And I Shall Rest
Sun going down. And I am far from home. Sun going down. And I'm out there alone. On the roads, I'm one more weary soul Searching for some place where I'll be whole. With my loaded backbone bending And the pain jolts up my arm. I will reach...
Mistolin, Compassionate to the Bereaved, Hear Me
He came to me when sunset filled the room. He smelled of sweat and sweet grass, as he does. His face was like the dark side of the clouds. His fangs were blooded. Dirt clung on his claws. His bruises purpled underneath his mane. His eyes were sad,...
Fourth Man Left Outside
The wind was almost still. You could be forgiven for thinking there was none at all. It moved, nonetheless, from the intersection down the dark suburban street till it found the raccoon and mockingbird climbing the front steps of one unremarkable house...
Cold Front
Grey mountains march at the edge of the sky. Dark mountains glower through a narrowed eye. From shadowed mountain vales comes a breeze long blest And the wind rises silent from the dark northwest. It rushes as it rises like a half-remembered...
The Holy Mountain of Vengeance
In the land of seven rivers, where the gates of death are builded, Stands a mountain (I can see it on the days when clouds are lifted) That is sacred to Odurum of the everlasting anger, (Who sets the forest blazing with his everlasting anger,) They...
This Poem Is Haunted
This is the house that he built out of breath. That was his living. This is his death. These are his clothes, though he needs them no more. Those were his shoes, left outside the door. These are peeled grapes, but pretend they're his...
I Ask Myself How Is It I Have Come
I ask myself, how is it I have come, Still so far from the sunset of my days, (I pray tis not yet sunset on my days) Unto some chamber in the maze of life Where it is possible to hear you say 'I miss you' and 'I feel your absence in The...
I Do Not Fear A Season Without Hope
I do not fear a season without hope: Catastrophe upon catastrophe, When love is every day a little bit Made more a crime. When cruelty becomes The only virtue men know how to praise. When all but easy speeches are forbid To comfort cruel men. I...
Maybe All Confessional Essays Should Be Written In Blank Verse
This started as a question, in my head. Why can I not write love a happy end? Why, when I try, must I write mourning, loss, Bereavement and the need for elegy? I write unto my husband, whom I love, And it becomes a prayer for his soul. I write...
The Last Journey Of Theodore Vulcek, Leader, Beloved Husband, and Pack Brother
"What turned you?" Miles asked, over the noise of idling engines while they waited for Harve to check them all in. They had been riding before sunrise, and it was just past sunset now. The hours of the Upper Peninsula, of Wisconsin, of Minnesota,...