William LouisDreyfus Poems

There is a tick, I'm told,
small as a seed, its back
hard as a turtle's shell,
blind, they say, and lives
...

God must mean for us to reason
that the flower first in bloom,
taut and shining, is not altered
even in its dying season.
...

How wise it was for whoever invented speech
to make no string of words able to reveal
the truth that hides in each of us for each.
Look how ably my explanations conceal
...

Just as death comes,
the truth gets said.
It is the anteroom
to all eternity.
...