Robert Glass Poems

If the sun were to burn out now,
It would take eight minutes
Before we knew -
Eight short minutes.
...

The sparrow
Has fled its perch,
And now rests,
With billowing chest,
...

The dust mote
Had been drifting for many years;
Its trek had placed it
In every nook and niche
...

What is that package in you hand?
It looks fragile,
Yet you sling it around as though it were unbreakable;
I think it's a gift,
...

In the pool of candlelight,
The cell phone rings -
And there is a horror in the sound;
You cannot see the future,
...

A light,
Through the stain glass windows
Of my soul,
Not only bathes me,
...

So many
Senseless deaths -
And much of the world's vibrancy
Is dulled away
...

I held tight
To her hand
As though doing so
Would keep her spirit
...

The strange sensation
Rising in my heart
Became a chill,
Then began spiraling outward,
...