My Poetry Has Become The

What Is Last Year's Snow To Me, Last Year's Anything? The Tree Budding Yearly Must Forget How Its Past Arose Or Set

Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes Shapes A Human Creed.

I Doubt Not God Is Good, Well-meaning, Kind

The Truth Is... Everything Counts. Everything. Everything We Do And Everything We Say. Everything Helps Or Hurts; Everything Adds To Or Takes Away From Someone Else.

Lord, I Fashion Dark Gods, Too, Daring Even To Give You Dark Despairing Features