Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling
I got lucky
That stone-faced soul
was out when mother and baby
and baby went by,
and so was I
in time for the smile,
that little bit left for me.
I’ll have never left
A hearty jealousy
Sometimes prayers you have to wrestle them loose
for they bear the beloved
and you don’t want to bear
the beloved away
Dawn of a new year
I die for death
I die for death has comforted me.
She has spread her blanket and lain sad beside me,
and looked wide-eyed, and waited.
Topeka
And so I left those troubles
like a gray bitter snowstorm,
spinning but then
digging and gaining traction,
passing slowly through the drifts and pelting
(headlights full of the past),
driving knowing if I drove far enough
there’d be an end to it,
the white line again,
daylight
and a first inkling of why
Walk in the woods
Light can be rich like butter
Light can be rich like butter –
and whiskey, too, like toffee.
When it is you’ll see, everything you see
is everything warm and smooth.
Christmas Canticle
Trucks will head home for the
holidays, and wreaths will have
arrived to adorn doors
and spin like the sun at Fatima.
For those who would pass through
the hoop and the door, the tree awaits,
hoisting its star, a princely, tinsely
medal for the savior.
Utrecht Journal 