O, Prescient Ewe
That knows where to stand
Avoids ambivalent hand

That bore this world
Of life’s command
To bear its high demand

O, Precocious Hen
Knows when not to lay
A life down in the hay

A babe unborn,
Uncracked, unraised
Unknown to her dismay

O, Prodigal Mare
Beware not to sprain
Or you will bear the strain

Though not for long
You’ll be for this plain
Where retired mounts are lain

O, Impassioned Pig
Whose fattening
Welcomes a fatter thing

Wash away
The amber glaze
Chase not the dangling

O, Prescient Ewe
Return to me
What is it you see?

Be sure it is
What’s to come
Not what you wish it be.

I envy you
The me I’m not
The me I’ll never be

I envy him
Whoever he
May become to thee

I envy them
A faceless bunch
Who call on thee to leave

I envy not
The hurt that lies
Now, not so far beneath

I envy you
The most of all
Maligned Jealousy

So, envy me
And maybe then
It may turn to levity

I envy it
What was not lived
Resides in passing dream

I promise not
To envy you
If only, you'd envy me.

Another smokes
Another one rolled
Another cries
Another one consoled
Another stands where
Another one was lain
Another’s bliss becomes
Another one’s pain

But if pain is just a part of it
Why is it all that remains?
Could it be Another
Is all it takes
To make One whole again?

O, Candle!
Warm me so
Tinge the palm with soot
Feel the flame
Embrace ye whole
Flee not – to flirting brook.

Make my gelid
Heart whistle
Like kettle overrun
Stir not
With the Finger
You may end up losing some.

Be careful
Not to under
Mine or worse – estimate
The Joy
In Suffering
Is one most intimate.

Let the pain
Consume ye
And be met with greater bliss
For there’s no greater
Pleasure than
To burn as warm as this.

The Clock has gone to bed
So have the Bell and Chime
And such has ceased all hours to pass
Beyond the boundary of Time.

The Twilight holds you — tender
To cheek you turned to foe
And so now becomes forever,
The Ox becomes a Doe.

O, Heart as gentle as the nascent Fawn
Who gets lost on familiar paths:
"If only to reminisce" — it jests
"Or chance upon greener grass."

~Shatter me, Humpty! Into Faberge~
Paint — the cracks, laden:
Urushi, gold leaf, lame.

~Drape me, King! In novel robes~
Hide thine – from naked eye
Of unsightly misanthropes.

~Devour me, Men! Unbecoming~
Break thy yolk and stir it, runny –
Scramble over my gutting!

Time has a fickle memory
Such oft it o’erlaps
Deja vu, of the lyric —
That Time itself — entraps.

Devours the page — engorged
‘Til you are paper-forged
Drowned — heady, in pretty epithet,
Losing Time you can’t afford.

You can’t unbind the shackles
For Time has lost the key –
Better to live a fleeting bliss
Than a prolonged misery.