The Poor

As the stark winter’s
conspicuous cathedral
harbors aloneness –

Before an empty
cup on a Sabbath sidewalk
waiting to be filled

(lit “Vacancy” sign
hanging on a wooden crux
of forsaken eyes)

Giver to beggar:
venerability cast –
till “No Vacancy”


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Night To Day

At night –
I close my eyes as my head rests on my pillow.
I see landscapes of color:
Pressed together in greens and blues and yellows,
A hint of red and raw umber:
Trees, a roaming river, blossoms of flowers –
They are as real as my inhale and exhale –
An eye’s breath away.

One day,
I will close my eyes –
And I will physically be there,
Under the trees near the river before the flowers –
I will smell the bloom of lilacs and lindens,
And rising tall like the cedar I will stand rooted –
And that will be enough.

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