Sunday, November 1, 2009

untitled plea.

My L-rd I'm sorry--
I'm tired and fail to deserve to say so
At your feet.

This wine,
I used it to divine my oath
To reprimand myself from disuse and

How awake I must seem to the others,
Though I sleep standing up.

How awake my soul to reprimand,
Though I sleep standing up.

(Tell me, though I do not deserve it, how I must have been desperate,
the garlanding wind and rain pushing in the windows--
I was looking for You.)

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