Truant Pastures

Poems that ponder the conundrums of existence and religious faith in wartime. Caw I try to hold my sleep against the dawn I sleep against the outside light where crows (nuns and Sergeants priests and colonels) conspire in the brightening yard calling me from play calling me from flight back through the pillow calling me from flight beyond Saigon,beyond Hanoi, and Seoul calling me from flight I fly high beyond the call cursing God for every shattered wall I sleep against the clarifying day agains