Tag Archives: poem

On Seeing Caravaggio’s The Taking Of Christ

Too often I spin my days Into an airy shroud of schemes And supposes – Absent this world Until something shoulders Past me — Heft and shape define the darkness: Obsidian armor cuffs A black-gloved hand, Gold trim pleats over … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Poetry, Religion, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 1 Comment