Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007


Sandburg’s City of Big Shoulders
breeds violence among the smallest of men
even today.
Walking head down in this burly town
it’s easy to bump into a stranger
and respond only with a grunt.
Perhaps it’s the lingering putrid stench
of livestock entrails on the murder room floor
that time, bleach, water and scrubbing can’t erase
that riles short tempers.
Knives are easy and familiar weapons
as husbands and wives dance
around the kitchen table at dinner
arguing over rent money spent on a quart of beer.
The same quart of beer that last night left
the purple bruise I’ll never see on Momma’s inner thigh.
Hardworking, hardliving men and women
who don’t easily succumb to tenderness
for fear of looking weak in Darwin’s eyes.


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