Wilmer Mills

For several days I’ve watched a robin beat Herself repeatedly against a window. An oracle. A bird-sign that augurers Once understood. It breaks my heart to see Her wanting some illusion in the glass As much as I want things I cannot have: Assurance that my children never suffer; An ordinary . . . . Continue Reading »

It happened in a country like Tibet, My dream: I’d climbed a mountain pass and found Where locals wrote their slips of prayer and let Them rot between the rocks and on the ground. Asleep, not feeling any reverence, I picked one out and saw to my surprise That it had been addressed to me. Its . . . . Continue Reading »

A homeless woman sleeps outside the door. She smells of urine so the customers Who eat brioche and talk about the poor Step wide of her in winter and in summer. But she has noticed them in their retreat Of tea and café latte ambiance. Oh, yes, she sees their pious nonchalance. They give her . . . . Continue Reading »