Poetry by Sheila Black
I wonder about the half-advertent suicides. About a person who writes about a wing in the sky.
I wonder about the half-advertent suicides. About a person who writes about a wing in the sky.
But at least that world’s alive to rage and mourn.
One can be content with little in life, if that little is immense.
I think now, in this time of violence and protest, of what Steve Cannon would say about the madness of some and the resolve of others.