Paris Morning


in the mist.
and along the river,
there is no man walking.
so silent-
it seems
like a barren crucifix. and

the old mother, notre dame,
rises slowly
to her table-top island,
jabbing clouds
gothic fingernails, as the current-swift seine
lies warm wrapped,
dark and unholy,
at her feet.

what question,
or worry, buried
in memory,
could not be eased
in the stillness
of this morning?


Links Atticus Books Richard Peabody Mondo Lucinda Ebersole Gargoyle Magazine Online Catalog Paycock Press Use this image map to navigate our site

| Paycock | Catalog | Gargoyle | Lucinda | Mondo | Richard | Atticus | Links