Some Poetry

Grip

Running east ...
from the west,
you circle about all
that you know,
swallowing your tail;
a serpent's grip
you clutch the earth
and won't let go.
Choked with desire,
tear creased gale...
Stop! let the son
pierce the soul
desire, swollen,
sullen, withdraw,
until you taste
the breath of God.

Wm.W.Wells – May 19, 2005