Truant Pastures

Poems that ponder the conundrums of existence and religious faith in wartime.

Caw
I try to hold my sleep against the dawn
I sleep against the outside light where crows
(nuns and Sergeants priests and colonels)
conspire in the brightening yard
calling me from play calling me from flight
back through the pillow calling me from flight
beyond Saigon,beyond Hanoi, and Seoul
calling me from flight
I fly high beyond the call
cursing God for every shattered wall
I sleep against the clarifying day against a plebiscite
of murdered selves forgotten relatives and mean
authorities bleeding friends parents and parishioners
conspiring with a squad of crows
to call me back again to call me down
to call me back to call and call and call