jeff-dinglerWhisper

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Seashells by seashoreThe shells are singing / holy songs now—oceans whistle through / their concert holes. ‘Holes drilled
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Change is StrangeNot long ago, if you could call a few years ‘not long’, / when I was still gloomily drawn to that my
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What the old church lady taught me of Englightenment“Lord knows Gods come and go so quick it’s like lightning, / and lord knows I’ve received my slings
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Why they burnThere’s that smell of smoke again / my neighbor burning leaves across the lot, / brown leaves worthy
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End of TimesDid you hear? / The preacher met the mendicant who’s / proselytizing the end of the world Saturday.
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That soft jingly musicThat soft jingly music / of snow hitting water— / my birthday
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WarWar / War / War! / Roar / Roar / Roar! / No more / No more / No. / More.
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Too Many Smiling People BluesToo Many Smiling People Blues / Before I was a nobody slinking by, / a real skink-body nobody. / Now
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TranscendenceWhat am I but a far / noise amongst the crickets / a passer in the stars / a fog amidst thickets?
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