
Sunday Poem: Ghosts of Pompeii
O me O my O molten ash, sulfuric gas—where was Jesu at your Vesuvius— I ask centuries later because I am…
O me O my O molten ash, sulfuric gas—where was Jesu at your Vesuvius— I ask centuries later because I am…
When I was young, I found myself running Running from the shade that plagues my skin If I ran hard enough the plague would…
they say the voyage is life, that every long journey begins with a first step life is about steps about building new skies…