As Good as It Gets

Gray morning

Dove waits on
Rusted wrought iron

Railing.

Epiphany

Lord,

If it’s true that nothing
We have seen so far has prepared us
For what we are to witness,

When that one clear moment rises
At last to the surface, let us clearly
Welcome it as a sign of our past

Unfathomable ignorance.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Abstract—

otherwise you shall soon see how
poor reminders your eyes are

of that concrete fact.

Delusions of Grandeur

stage
struck
all

most
power

full
act
or

only
an
aura.

One Thing a Poem Should Not Be Like

An old man who’s avoided
The relentless

Midday sun and is now
Shuffling his feet

In the shade.