Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow . . .
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“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words - . . .
How many times these low feet staggered (238)
How many times these low feet staggered -
Only the soldered mouth can tell -
Try - can you stir the awful rivet - . . .
Hunger Moon
The last full moon of February
stalks the fields; barbed wire casts a shadow.
Rising slowly, a beam moved toward the west
stealthily changing position . . .
Hush
The way a tired Chippewa woman
Who’s lost a child gathers up black feathers,
Black quills & leaves . . .
A Hymn to God the Father
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, . . .
