Angus Wyman Macdonald Poems

High we stack our ideas
our theories and beliefs

Yet jealousy and greed
...

What surprises me most
is how male lust for female beauty
the thing that populations are made of
...

This is a dream I had:

In a labyrinthian castle
a small boy
...

If you twist its handle 'round
The Door
though heavy
so lightly pivots on its hinge
...

I am not tired
I am not hungry
I am whole
and blessed with health and happiness.
...

I can almost hear my sins
crunching underneath my steps
I look down and see these
as if the Earth were made of glass
...