Revisions

Magic Tricks (Revision)

Spring,

that conjuror,

proves illusions—deft

slight-of-hand distracts us

from realities.

Distance (Revision)

I invent their faces

Give them eyes

For invisible horizons

I, Too (Revision)

Quite,

He says

With a twist of the lips

That does little enough

To reassure.

Short Piece

The Daisy Quinn

Her namesake,

Prairie born

And living ever

Within sound of windswept shortgrass,

Only saw the ocean

In a photograph,

But knew the terror

Of encircling horizons

Blank and distant.

Short Pieces--Part 6

Magic Tricks

Like a conjuror,

Spring

Distracts our eyes

From mud

Covered

Reality

To prove illusions

After Easter

When

The mass of lilies smothering the altar

Has been removed,

The hangings

With quotations relevant

To the occasion

Have been hidden in the back closet,

Bulletins are printed

Not on pastel but

Again on plain

White

Paper

He still is risen

Distance

People

With no faces

Follow dusty paths

I cannot see.

What One Does with Philosophy

I met today

A monastery gardener

With a barrow

And the world in his mouth.

I Am Human, Too

Quite,

He says with

A twist of the lips

That does little enough

To reassure.

Resurrection Day Poem

Mary

To me,

Blessedness means gathered grief

From years

Of dying sons and weeping mothers,

Given

In the promise of redemption.