Time for sleep. Time for a nightcap of grave music, A dark nocturne, a late quartet, a parting song, Bequeathed by the great dead in perpetuity. I catch a glance sometimes of my own dead at the window, Those whose traits I share: thin as moths, as matchsticks, They stare into the haven of the warm room, eyes ablaze. It is Sunday a lifetime ago. A...Learn More

His grace is no longer called for Before meals: farmed fish multiply Without His intercession. Bread production rises through Disease-resistant grains devised Scientifically to mitigate His faults. Yet, though we rebelled against Him Like adolescents, uplifted to see An oppressive father banished - A bearded hermit - to the desert, We confess to...Learn More