Wednesday, November 23, 2011

a Tacit, a Turn

On bended knee on the rocky Cumberland shore
I wept into the big body
I wept and howled like a wolf
And smote my breast
my knapsack barred me
from the wombish dew,
perfected by the Trappist Monks
somewhere cold

the fields, tended
What about God?
Have you tried everything?
No party should take away
from your seeking.
I've got my freedom.