William Brendan McPhillips Poems

It often happens April will not bring
The kind of end to Winter we call Spring.
We look for buds to burst the bond of sleep
And strain to hear the pond frog peepers peep.
...

At last I know how hard I tried
To keep the joy of love denied
From undermining all I built
In mounds of words and mounds of guilt;
...

And now the stuff about the heart I thought,
The abstract stuff we tout, emote, and feel,
Seems somehow out of tune with tubing brought
From groin arterially through the seal
...

A leaf alone, in Autumn moon and night,
In Winter turns to lantern, golden light;
A group of gulls in gossip, fog and ear,
Can rob the mind of solitude and fear;
...