I’m going to do something a bit unusual (for me). Below are two verses of poetry I wrote over the weekend. There are lots of things I could explain about it, but just read it and tell me your observations, whatever they are. Then later on, I’ll respond.
Wheeling overhead I hear
the ravens’ voices — which I have compared
to the serpents’ bite: the poison, entering your ear
finds its feeling — by degrees and choices
ending in a fatal pagan rite.
God! the rider of the storm
is their true master, who have sent us reeling,
diving at our eyes. A countermeasure in the form
of a brazen — symbol of disaster!
we looked up and the demons ceased their cries.
Update — The promised follow-up has been posted.
