You bid us come and dine
A meal of bread and of wine
Bread, by human hands broken
As your body-a holy emblem.
Wine, fruit of the vine,
Poured out as a loving sign
That we may drink, may eat
And sit at your broken feet,
Your children, your servants
Your body,
Amen.
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These poems posted this month so far are all older ones...mostly from my very early 20's...they show a less mature, more innocent individual... often wracked with good old protestant guilt. Feel free to skip any of these if you are looking through. Most of the newer stuff is much more interesting. I thought I'd post them all here just to keep the collection more or less complete. I have more to add that were never typed up...and I may or may not do so in the future.
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