Mary Freeman

“I used to believe that there was a green stick,buried on the edge of a ravine . . . on whichwords were carved that would destroy all theevil in the hearts of men and bring themeverything good.”—Leo Tolstoy When he was old, pate bald, skin sere.Back humbled as the turtle’sFor all his . . . . Continue Reading »

The body has a clarityBetween high and low hierarchies tenebras et luces. He would be undone Who for too long scorns Either throng to court the other.Vengeance is mine clamors Each. Angel bright of Intellection, her glittering Sword sends straight to Heaven. Angel dark of Palpitation, her furious . . . . Continue Reading »

You heard the voices waftingBeyond the mechanical street.Attending seraphs sighingYou caught their half-notesIn the narrows of the halls at night.Unscrewing lightbulbs from the sockets,Blinding the world to heed the light,You announced in the kitchenWith old prophetic ardorAgainst our din of talk . . . . Continue Reading »