cathedrals were not built in one moment
and so this poem will not try
just lead to the next
pay reverence the first
the forgotten and the worst
to the times of the rain when the foundations sank
when sky was distant
when nothing you said made any impression
and all backs turned
to shout over shoulders
'you base cur' 'you talentless fool'
you gargoyle perverted
to the times of praise
when the room fell still
all ears drinking the wine of your words
embarrassment staining your soul with perfection
and your belly full with pride
yet poem on poem
you build and pray
The Blue Book
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