Steven Federle Poems

Glare,
thin limbs,
wind drifting,
sun melting straw
...

Full from the feast
table laded
with fragrant dressing,
steam of onion and celery,
...

The treasure of trees
golden mounds
on the green ground.
...

Bright chill
coiling clouds
roiling coarse space
welling
...

Steel slugs slam
into black, shattered walls,
dim cars grinding
down sanguine streets
...

Clear sky, vaulting blue
drives out the ragged clouds,
of yesterday’s storm.
...

I called today
and heard the sharp alarms
ring by his bed,
...

'There must be a time when the man of prayer goes to pray as if it were the first time in his life he had every prayed.' Thomas Merton

Grey mist
rises and falls
...

Wind-ripped leaves
cover my yard

severed flesh, leathery
...

About five o clock,
the warm November day
just stops.
...