the Grinder’s Gloves
the Grinder's gloves
are stained with blood
are stained with blood and worse
the Dead River
unstoppable life in its circle did turn
we awoke, we grew feeble, we died, we returned
forgetting in death all of life we had learned
the next day the same and the same on the third
if I Could Die Afraid
If I could die afraid I would.
Death ought be feared, not understood.
If I can die afraid I will,
and then be sure that Life was real.