Charles Southerland

I cut a hawthorn, stripped the outer barkwhich left five shades of red to contemplate.The first, as dark as blood, the Savior’s markleft by those thorns that ripped his brow, pressed hatedown deep and sprouted. Next, a lighter shadecontrasted, dried like dye cast on a robeof royalty, a third with . . . . Continue Reading »

A shadow of sensation lies therein.The hungered truth is stumbling on the stairs.All pleasure which is measured is a sinand faith misplaced is made of wishful dares.We end up in the sea like all shipwrecks,all bounty in our broken holds are drowned,as memories prolific, fond of sexand drink and . . . . Continue Reading »

You will see again through the prism’s rainbow through the lighting sky in horizon’s turning rising, rising, ravishing night departing,     hiding from glory. You will see the revelry, angels lighting, bands of Seraphim in the deep blue cirrus clouds, their gliding . . . . Continue Reading »