Look, here is grief,
Her humid circuit riding,
And here is God,
Abiding.
And here warm grace
Runs down the lichen’s fuzz,
And here sweats God
With us.
Now tap the glass
Which keeps the foggy smile,
Safe from the chill,
A while.
Look, here are ghosts
Of maybe, and because,
And here are grapes I grew
From moss.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
The Oscars’ Unlikely Tribute to Motherhood
On Sunday night, while accepting her Academy Award for Best Actress, Hollywood star Jessie Buckley spoke lovingly…
The Parasocial Generation
When Technoblade, a popular Minecraft streamer, announced his cancer diagnosis in August 2021, the outpouring of support…
How to Write a Russian Novel
The Prodigal of Leningradby daniel taylorparaclete press, 256 pages, $21.99 There is of course no generic “Russian…
