Presence
At depths no conjurer could reach
Belief becomes so touchable,
So burgeoning with life, so full
That being’s song inclines to preach.
Thus, waits that fundamental breech
Between form and the fizzable
At depths no conjurer could reach.
It’s there one feels the real outreach,
The presence of non-visual
And sacred motes that pair and pull
The godly words that make up speech
At depths no conjurer could reach.
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Dennis Daly has published seven books of poetry and poetic translations. He writes reviews regularly for The Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene and on occasion for the Notre Dame Review, Ibbetson Street, Wilderness House, and the Somerville Times. He occasionally reads his poetry at various venues. Please see his blog at dennisfdaly.blogspot.com.
Amethyst Review 