More on: Poetry

In the dark, everyone is kind.

Is it wrong to believe I’m due what was promised?

The hells they reproach are strewn around them like asphodel. Above, the Milky Way shines in broad daylight, a hundred billion burning strips of paper.

c I was reeding you
see I was reading you
sí I was red in you

It would be fine my mother said, as we boarded the plane back from school, the taste of ginger from the holiday still riding my back teeth.

All is still. God has come and gone.

All is still. God has come and gone.

Can we stay awake this time? Can we keep the world from ending, not by flood or fire but by its own human hand?

This place is an ark now.
Behave as you would on an ark.

Bless the Doctor, O my soul, and my daughter’s soul and all my daughter’s missing genes shall bless His holy degree.