The Lesser Angels of Our Nature

The Lesser Angels of Our Nature
chalk on paper, 11 x 14"
1985 self-portrait

When hope is crushed like an aluminum can 

And tomorrow sounds like a dirty word 

Can't muster the strength to make a stand 

Confidence shattered like a bottle hurled. 

I battle the demons inside my head

But bargain with the lesser angels

A stout oak breaks because it cannot bend 

And swiftly adapt to painful changes 

We are not enemies, but friends

The mystic chords of memory

Though passions may have been strained

Again touched, as they surely will be