He smiles to see his children, born to sin,
Digging those foxholes there are no atheists in.
Because You Asked about the Difference Between Poetry and Prose
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn't tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
Mystery Story
Formal as minuet or sonnet,
It zeroes in on the guilty one;
But by the time I’m told who done it,
I can’t remember what he done.
Morning Sun
How many more this morning are there dead of
The peace I came to bring a sword instead of?
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