Wednesday, January 27, 2010



Should I pray to an uncertain god?
In saying the names of the children of Troy
Their faces rise in the eye of the mind.
In the weighted country where Moses
Delivered the day in a shower blood
And laughter falls down the hill and
Damns both the near and the far.
I drink from the mighty water to see how far we have fallen.
Our thieves have stolen the stony wind
And left us to tell our stories to the night
In only shirts wrinkled with the past
What luck sends us out into the wilderness?
Sold on the quay by unpaid merchants
Hanging from churchlamps
Beyond the rain.

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