Caught in creation’s knot, I groan

and weave another kind of web,

a shield, a screen, a surety,

a stay against reality.

Masked thus I search for wisdom’s gold

and blown by every rumored vein,

I wrap myself in borrowed clothes

and hold at bay the enemy’s hand.

Until at last at Peter’s booths

I stand fumbling with my mask

and shedding ancient, carrion truth

I leave creation’s debt a coin.

                                                                                        JDG

                                                                                         April 1984