for the scars that remain after the battered soul heals

for the ongoing hemorrhage of injurious hope

for the fears arising from tortures too ghastly to be mentioned

for the pit of despair where rests stagnant laughter, mired in decay...

for these pieces of the poet's being... there must be poetry

for in the words of the verse, hammered out on life's iron keys

i often find relief and sometimes

in moments of purest grace

are discovered

wonderful questions.


(the poet knows this. true?)