Art Rosch

The tree limb
from which the bird has just flown
rocks in the early morning light.
...

The beast of the cosmos staggers,
wounded by the weapon of its own life.
...

This up still pleasure in center.
Still this up in pleasure center.
Center in pleasure still up this.
Pleasure this up in center still.
...

There is always one bird
in the earliest hour of the day
who raises a song,
with heartrending joy.
...

Show me the way, Lord.
I am always your student.
I am always in love with you.
I am always willing to change myself
...

My heart would be completely full,
but for the tiniest speck of emptiness.
All my sight of myself
rushes into that hole,
...

If you have asked yourself the question
“why am I so crazy”?
the answer is simple.
You are crazy with grief.
...

Oh lord, oh lord,
what has befallen me?
That which I hoped to make straight
only becomes more twisted.
...

Everyone is looking at death
as if it were a new neighbor
that just bought a house
down the street.
...