Canadians will pray for the Mexican People—
and especially for President Claudia Sheinbaum.
—Jeff
Intact art village to Deuteronomy home
At least I’m tired and overexposed
A place of tasting Heaven’s fire
A sweet possession of the Lord-
In time to Heaven and year of dawn
Intransigent force of open Heights
Left Heaven and Right sincere-
from the romance of the Earth
A childless one and fearing death
I am rendered to the bone
Sutton’s redemption and smiling lantern
I laugh but on parade
For thousands livid at rightful day
Thinking of peace by the water
The ribbons of protest to be among brothers
Anoxic but conscious by nine
A simple press from all that is now
With life spent on yearly disaster
We find ourselves fortune-
And joyous in Christ
And celebrating Claudia’s reign
For a cat and one crayon,
who are early redemption
And lessons to child one poem
We reap only ours
And sow in the wind
For casting in Canada of seed
To night inspiration to be of one faith
Unpopular and ragged on journey
Fear not of the livid,
but of guns-
For our culture has turned us to night
Duma
Seek early repose
A fonted vacuum to the chamber
Bludgeoned by the nerves
English chapter for peace
Cham cards for witnessing view
A style of sorry, for the eightlands war
No forgiving men, for up and clear to-
dismembered in reason
What seeks no real-
But to square auction and suffering
A worriless pain without misery
Approchement from the North
Fixing sixty fever-
Where to the self
And proper comrade-
You are not East German
Or American.
Putin-
who of a spare on your Bible
To notice Harvard and spill blood
The umbrella of fever sits you here
Thou shall not want-
In strange days of unrelief
And sick for the saviour, who isn’t,
By the way,
Marrakesh
Strobing all war
And plans to unsin
After children are bulldozed
Rain to your effect
And gifts for the healer-
Santa Claus but backward
Suppers of mud and river torrent
An honest rock at sea
Bears your name of the desert
Walleye few
Killing forward
A mass of Arams, and bankrupt-
To the hearing you offered-
In sin to the afraid,
As you speak one ambulance
And forgivelessness call
A hack to the teeth in separation
Ukraine’s someone-
Yours, perhaps-
Gifts in fashion
But no
And not ever
It is filth without rain
And slandered to the toe
A tiny republic
And a small, little man-
Even I know your hearse
And to the knees-
You are seen
The last patient of worry
Bubonic breath
And gone
Long live Ukraine-
And a Russia without Putin.
Do Not Abandon Peace
Days of water
To discarded dreams
The new in Christ are a chapter
Through views enduring harassment
And suffering, and pain
Witnesses to anger and the hurting flesh
In childbirth, a suffering
Limitless of verse to the Christian-
Weary as children to esteemed at spring
Soaring on Bread and Wine as per the Good News
Seated yet unable to be without joy
Liberation to Holy Scripture
The Holy Spirit in mind-
To not grieve- and always allow
New forms of day for eruptive laughter
And unhidden from view
This is the necessity of things
Love and treasuring the amounts of the mind
Auxiliary view to Mondays
And simple tandem with another-
Esteemed in Christ, and for change
Praying for Heaven and Water
Holy here
By the River of Tehran
Seeking Jesus
Without quarrel or war
In peace
And attire for all
Redemption’s course to the new
And hollow fame-
A caution to note
Washington’s war is sober defeatist
Pray all in attendance at peace
Love God and one-another
Seek Holy Rain
And work in Christ-
Anew.
Harry
Six points at Winter
And a surfacing of words
To append a cactus with its own firm call
Nine lives and a jetty for docking hearts
New phones for the underprivileged
Newness in every solemn favour
An attachment of faith
As warm as the wind
Burdock upon
And little kites to enforce November
A young person’s award
For suffering of the self
Bees afar
And clinically unafraid-
A man of poem and exceptions perfect
Unilaterally proud for the sky in his Crown
A paid small child
To offer ceremony to the forest
Implying personally of all
Freeborn and to the hearts
And heroes of Heaven math
To the estate
A soldier and foreign
But only to the media
It’s in his book
A gander of herds
And a family to know-
Remembering the fallen
A father and a figure
Hero for his mother
Statesman gold
Spoon
And the one share
Tidings for time
The places that escape me
Find speed and unprepared
But all things digital
The substance within
Words to Denmark
The classic home
And revealing to Mette
A thousand werewolves
To do our work
And Jens-Frederik is on beauty
To favour once again
A solemn progress for Denmark
And shoes that fit
The wonder of an economy bill
Early and unafraid
The chapters we change
For Greenland’s spear
Which closes history
Of our dawn-
The less oiled
To Greenland home
Which speaks the intelligible:
“Get off our property.
This is our Heaven.
And clients remain.
But to sever our clue.
Our history is fair.
And we tithe to you,
Denmark prosper-
The face of no memory-
Which is wrecking means.
And we have things upon radar.
Our tiding news.
And our own government-
Which means water, not war.
And you partner us,
for our people’s sake-
The wondrous home
Which prays for you-
In every language.
Both beginnings new,
Us believers-
Home.”
—For Jens-Frederik and Mette
Molly
In a factor of 1
I was time and alone
For prayer peace,
and solid hours,
Third in succession
To Rome
And strangely removed
From the towels we remember
Finding swim
And fields of work
And jubilation
There were mercury keys
And days of Saturn setting
I was your hero
But we became the republic
In no way of finding out
I was remorse and you were both feeling and scared
Too much lovely,
And not enough sounding strange
But forces were
And I was a day that talked to you
In sight of redemption, some,
Fears of knowing the end of islam-
Made me the enemy
And you were closest,
Every night,
To my baptism
In shaded countries,
The ones with places,
I was the countryside-
and you were a looker
Sweet repose by nasturtiums-
And borderline Republic,
You and me,
Fixing Qatar
And wanting to be first
Through every door
You were the smartest Woman
And paved every way
To avoid my death-
The Hero at war
And I remember you
Chasing our dowry
Screaming down at mansions
Affecting Europe in force-
To be frequent and fast
And taking chances
Like the fool ocean we drank
And chose to swim
For Earth’s dark
And lonely Finn
Squirrels at home, rest, and play
The juvenile Epiphany for all Mulroons
Making our Month to Aladdin
Escaping by dawn
To the Rothesay we borrowed
Upon real war-
And not totally beat
Like lions
And the elite
Perfect broke,
As the angels,
And praying starry war-
Inverted but also shared
For wanting home
And saving Shannon
We feel already
Our escape hatch on plus
To give us get
With simple days
And heights of Peter
The only edifice
A patriot of seeming patterns,
Not us-
We were the other
And it took us to Reykjavik
By classes 1 and 2
Specialist flights
And below deck
To sleep while fasting
For fortunes of echo-
Loudly chambering
A new Woman
And mechanist
While we pray for Saxon
The policy out loud
For turnstiles and waving at war
Like it was-
Just a story
And ending dawn
I’ll Wait For You
To be last
I am
In this fortress of gold
And my hearing
Virtuous day
With nine beams between
The card I passed to brothers
Who were in my way
To stop war
And lean entire
To solemn wish
For rain
And motion blue
A paw below
Eating rain
And licking up
Beside me
Fortunes of dew
And all this warmth
We live forever
In Scandinavia
And have a section for the Cathedral
That espouses everyone
And animals all day
To burden against war
And be properly protected
And seen again
Like heaven speaks
Tomorrow
Greenland and The Kingdom of Denmark
To the extended Hand of England
Planted Crosses in the blue
Of belugas shouting high in stream
To be the River David
Upon this dance of April rise
Was a verdant kind of shore
To leap in pride and cease in prayer
An honour to the elders
May is tide and fusing rain
A Neutron Dove for Nice
May no more hate but burn the risk
Of tropics under oath
May men in peril understand
A victim of the Cross
To newfound law and spinning fate
A poor man’s ruin in tome
Spirited thinking and across the aisle
Greenland is one country
Fomented order sailing ships
And docks of Greenland Crosses
To South and May will win the steppe
From far away and first
The Holy Year for Greenland June
A visit from the Irish
In Ulster Rob whose son is near
The famed new border airport
Sublime and real
And made for Mette
A play on silent prayer
The mode of action in Greenland’s Cross
The highest land of Eden
And to sullen discharge,
A rifle’s poem
That Greenland is a home
Ensuing Winter
A nation born
Higher than time
Three peers for an omen
And dusting off the individual
It is a scientific sign
That air war is a worry
And the Gospel is good at speaking
Listen to life itself
And this spiral is yours
But I do know a song of Winter
When yours is to marry
The special view-
A place of the sonic
And this millholder of one a million
A prize this year that isn’t peace
But rather a fortune for the dollar
Kin and country-
We’re never so immune to piracy
And the one mule in the world
Was afraid of backgammon
And Taylor made history
Medicine Hat
Iconic lore to here and there both
Prayers for Mother Nature
Wisdom through the window
A barren stream for two years-
A plan to be
To seek the fish we need
And a lake became
And it is well
Four years to the ocean later
Summons in phen and oak
Fir beaver dawn return
To the dear fortune in tide
Numismatic time-
And a place for good
Scenes of rain and snow-
To bank and loan
A pile of abandonment
Scintillation tear
Fears for the wild
And fortune vibe hold
Sixty ways upon an eel
And a forest and a plain
The gestations of wonder
Generations assemble
The inland weir
Pasted drafts land drifts of land and snow
Thirty years in paint to the General mural
Assumptions past to know and name
Six years to the century
And foreign good
Grandmothers in speedy watch
May of water and Major Force
The gambit of lint by the garden
Pressure on the rocks
A footpath to remain
The Manger’s way to heights
And thoroughfare of wisdom
Proper shores to influx by hand
A beautiful man has hair
And time for family
United war-
Against the Afghans
Who know and fly
On the docket for 41
And Summer ground
Time’s repeal
A no fly city
And better days this big
To fortune Adam for the week
And I know you
As a forest-
of Hope