In Virtue I Sin

It was Hemingway

early

 

And Dickinson

late

 

Those early

exposures

 

The trail of

my wake

 

No bar left

unvisited

 

Or brawl left

unfought

 

No school that could

answer

 

Dialectic

corrupt

 

Now this corner

I sit in

 

Both welcomes

and warms

 

And the thoughts

it retriggers

 

No movement

just form

 

I once had

looked over

 

What I now look

within

 

From this chair

that I captain

 

Where in virtue

—I sin

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

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