A Poem for April

Having Crossed the Sea (Exodus 15) I have seen them, dead along the shore, their bloated faces still ripe with hate. And there was one I stopped at to kick— kick him fiercely and hard in the face the way they kicked my now dead husband who wept at making bricks...

Kenosis and Liberation

For Pesach and Holy Week, an older poem of mine, engaging the great festivals in a slantwise way: Francis and the Leper (for Richard Rohr) They both stank (it was not a time obsessed with odorlessness). Doubtless both were frightened: the God-besotted penitent...