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Showing posts from March, 2011

Cold Comfort for Change

Cold Comfort for Change In our wailing And shaking of fists, Prayers to what we prefer of reason Touch lightly on the thing beneath. These gestures made through the movement of time Rub softly and abrade the mindful eye. Yet still eager for sighs of discontent As they leak from curled lips, As shaped by the unseen gnashing of carious teeth -- Breathing into an anguished distraction The pain of it falls into a of thing of itself. We set fire to the altar by change And gnaw loose from the traps that we’ve laid. Mike Brady/ 2011