I've dug this up from the gravel of my being,
felt this sediment,
scraped through all the layers
to find small scattered bones.
owl puke.
that's my softness,
that's childhood
               and
           a reason for wanting to destroy it.

enough fire wood
enough energy
then
too much energy
                                and
the lights go out.

a contribution of what you learned that day fed to you at the dinner table.

coffee eyes dreamed about good mornings,
sugar kisses his lips, his eyes,
his cheeks
stomach,
legs,
papered skin layered in dreams.

dreams of
                   gold shedding from the sky,
words painted beneath the flesh,
              eyes shut to see what's inside.

how are you going to see what's outside if your eyes are always shut?