Black trains ride past leather shops
Windows rattle
Time bends in knotted muscles
Clocks talk in low slow voices
Lonely trees by the curb
The meek can only wait
Something gentle about the clouds
Light in my eyes
Faith is seeing the stars
Church is you and I
Salvation happens right now
Break up the fallow ground
Statue in the park
We sit by an old fountain
Leaves in the still water
The sun hides like a detective
You look like Sylvia Plath
Romance can be a chain gang
Jaded lawyers become novelists
Underground lives the Kafka’s
Poet laureates sign yearbooks
Steel gates separate the Steppenwolf
Liberation theology has martyrs
Alabaster mountains cry like cats
Memories seem like old crows
I have travelled like a gypsy
Pigeons on the roof
Flags full of soot
You come to witness to me
I already believe
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem