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Articles
Fashioning a Walking Stick
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...
Wretched, We Sail On
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...
The Calling
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...
