The Ancient Plaster Has Wise Cracks


Truth has high ceilings
though reality roils
in the shivering dark.

Craniums carry
candles of pretense
but feet err
in bleeding shouts.

Faith is the dream
before morning
till light becomes invisible
in the panic noon.

Kind universe to trace
our jaunty brush strokes
though the crash of mystery
satirizes the lines.

Time has slender fingers
but clocks measure only
the folly of souls.


Pittsburgh 1996