Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Poem by Ivan Granger
Every Shaped Thing
By Ivan M. Granger
(1969 - )
Sighing,
every shaped thing
turns
heavenward.
Your altar
cannot seat
the thousand thousand
idols.
Holding them,
what do you have?
Each gilded god
says:
"I am
impoverished
by the sun.
I can only
point
up."
-- from Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey, by Ivan M. Granger
Amazon.com
