Poems ✍️

JOY ... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel ... painting on a slab of night
sky a Christ face ... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering
till at last the door gives and we are in a new room ... forever and ever violet
petals, slabs, the Christ face, brass keys and new rooms.
are we near or far?... is there anything else?... who comes back?... and why does
love ask nothing and give all? and why is love rare as a tailed comet shaking
guesses out of men at telescopes ten feet long? why does the mystery sit with its
chin on the lean forearm of women in gray eyes and women in hazel eyes?
are any of these less proud, less important, than a cross-examining lawyer? are
any of these less perfect than the front page of a morning newspaper?
the answers are not computed and attested in the back of an arithmetic for the
verifications of the lazy
there is no authority in the phone book for us to call and ask the why, the
wherefore, and the howbeit it's ... a riddle ... by God.