The poet’s way

Sometimes (many times)

I struggle to find the words;

the words of god, of Lucifer, of

utterance across the span of

a species searching for itself.


Words round up the feelings

and the thoughts that have many

times been heard before my

small life of wondering, and

all who were and are to come,

greater than me, I think, they too

will seek the evil and the good,

and find the devil’s voice and

the call of god in this fine way

to perdition that will come to all.


So, let my soul live in freedom’s

words, in ecstasy and agony and

all that goes with living the poet’s 

dismal way, and let it never be a way 

of safety, for there is safety enough 

in the neat corners of the grave.