a litany in the age of ruined faith
each day begins without prayer
and the sky
hung like a luminous shroud
every branch on every tree
shimmers
where it presses against the cold air
what i'm giving you is november
in the year of undeclared wars
where fear disguised as anger is
the only weapon i have
and i believe in silence
i believe that even shadows
cast by the bones of forgotten martyrs
can be beautiful
i am building a new religion here
beneath the light of a dying sun
and there is a man i know who
tells me that god will
make me suffer
there is my son
who laughs as i chase him
through the kitchen and there is
my wife who cries for
everything she ever lost
she understands the poetry
will save no one
she has faith in the
possibility of redemption
i'm not sure it's that simple
--John Sweet
CONTENTS