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Easter Peonies

               Easter Peonies Pink peonies are dying.  Only those Most hidden in the shades from one near bush Hold on to sturdy hope, to lingering rose Determination not to wilt. These push With frilled resistance, blowse-like guimpes, against That insubstantial...

On the Right Hand of God, the Father Almighty

  On the Right Hand of God,         the Father Almighty The pheasant stalks the hoar-frost farmer’s field, But early morning’s backlighting shines strong, So blackest silhouette is this dawn’s yield. No.  Wait.  Pure ugliness does not belong To spring.  A moment...

A Hoodie in the Rare Books and Music Reading Room?

 A Hoodie in the Rare Books    and Music Reading Room? A cruel face.  Who’d think a blond moustache Could looks so fierce?  A snub or pug nose that Would look cute somewhere else cuts a gash There, sticking out like the snout of a bat Surrealistically hung, suspended...