Faces

I’ve seen this photo of Whitman many times, but when I chanced upon it again yesterday, it seemed as large and familiar as some of the black-and-whites in our old family albums. That, of course, started me thinking about faces and the works of art they inevitably become.


In the half-lit damp I see a face

In the half-lit damp I see a face —
that which remains after storm and smoke
have passed its way, then drifted on.

What becomes a man,
are the little things he does;
what defines him,
is all he loves.

In the half-lit damp I see a face —
so much older than it was,
an archeology of thoughts and dreams.

Beyond my touch, it records
the evening cry of birds,
the scent of dusk,
the beating of wings.

(first publication)


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Updates:
Another sixteen words added to the Burns Glossary.

In the Forum: “God is in the sequels.”