Wednesday, March 12, 2014

DOMINION STILL

Of all—
the glitzy 
and greenshingled homes

and the new-
fangled clamoring 
storefronts that sprawl—

with proud 
slanted roof lines—in a glaze
across the lengths

of another latterly
unhumbling
suburban boulevard—it seems only

the old grim
and squat—straight 
up and down

limestone-
stacked 
chapel of 

a tacit Saint 
John 
of the corner lot—

truly looks
as if it—plainly 
and guiltlessly knows

how to own 
the whole morning's 
vast—and so 

patently
unspendable—fortune of snow.

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