pray mark it with a song
who died defending
the arguably right
from the army of the
arguably wrong.
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When I asked them, why did You
I was too young to ask such questions;I should just be glad..I wondered but did not say,were You sorry that perhapsit hadn’t gone quite rightfirst time? ..I wondered but did not say,how could they be surehe was the only son; might You – or we – not needanother Son, every now and then?Later, I began…
Me, I prefer a long tale
said the pythonglancing at theReaders’ Digeston return fromthe restroom(for Jerry,who likesshort poems)
My Beloved said
sleeping in Myself, I came to youand looked into your mirrorto see whom I might seeand when you wake,then you will see My breathstill moist uponthat mirror.
I’m a hunky
so should Ibe wearing one of thoseblack postboxesto spare the chicks fromlusting after me?Yours metaphorically,
There was a hearth;
chairs;and, I remember, love;all else was there,and did not need to name itself.
and we’ll never quite forgive our parents
and we’ll never never forgive that onewe thought our best friendfor stopping being our friend withoutan explanation or anythingand we’ll never ever forgive our first loverour first for heaven’s sakefor dumping us and ruining our whole lifeand we’ll never quite forgive –no, let’s not go there; that’stoo close to home…and we’ll never forgive God for,oh…