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Poem

Diverse masks I face on each day in hell,
locked within this bone-borne scaffolding;
where once two full lips had screamed farewell,
now, sound's denied without the balm of rocking.

I'm beset, no way to run from the gore,
malformed with want, no orifice to moan; 
had I culled another form to explore;
I'd not be trussed within these links of bone.

Suits of skin of white, black, and yellow, worn
were thought the rage in life, and yet abhorred,
each sack the other envied and so; they warred. 
Too late now for these bones to implore

sanity and peace. But next time, I'll be
I think, a well-loved cat, freed from greed.




Dante's Inferno

“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:	
Through me you pass into eternal pain:	
Through me among the people lost for aye.	
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:	
To rear me was the task of Power divine,	        
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 	
Before me things create were none, save things	
Eternal, and eternal I endure.	
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

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