Poems from shawnehamilton
Death is not the end
of pain and pleasure.
The Great Gristmill grinds fine
pebble deeds and boulder
misdeeds.
When YOU, heaving beast,
hear...
We stand out like white sheep,
Stumbling along the crowded Taiwan streets,
Tripping on cracked sidewalks crammed with clothing racks and...
A critical strike—
Locusts swarm Baghdad.
Hands on general watch point north;
We know the hour.
Onerous change—oppressors change.
And we...