poetry archive

the agony of having too much power
quietly, with reverance, in awe
the light withdrawn
we who stood
daughter, thou art come to die
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
through the broad earth's aching breast
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
but alas, just dreams
with lips blood red and heart of stone
and with the humming bird
the mountains they are silent folk
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars