In Defense of Short Poems

Sometimes I see into the soul of things, 

A momentary glimpse, short and succinct.

And then, the seeing done, I look about

And see that I am merely looking. 

I remember, though, my seeings 

And I hold them fast for dreaming. 

They would be my poems; 

They would be my dreams. 

Short and succinct. 

Reasons

Some people have reasons.
 They listen intently.
A sapphire song come sailing,
Fastened to a distant home,
And they can hear it and obey.
I peer through life.
I long to hear that voice.
And yet for all my desire
I have never heard it.

A Taint

All the doggerel that God made

Flows into a pile like vomit. 

And I, stuck in the mess, sing.

How can I spew but filth?

How can I speak but dirt?

All the doggerel that God made

Flows from my mouth. My shit

Soiling his gentle hands.