George Guerin Poems

Oh, charming organic beauty,
Not composed of painting or stone
But of living corruptible matter
Look at the shoulders and hips.
...

The world will say, "What mystic love is this"?
What ghostly mistress? What Angelic friend?
Read, Masters, your own passion to the end,
And tell me then if I have writ amiss.
...

Under the hard, dusty lamplight
corporate pragmatism drones in front of me now.
I soften the heavy blows with purple lids.
My journeys so moist, distant in those eyes,
...