I
We are made of wood, we
rot from the inside out,
for men of STONE went extinct years ago.
We are the trees
our a  r  m  s and    l
                                 e
                                 g
                                 s
                                     are branches
Our fingers
twigs and leaves
our hearts easily set     a         l            z
                                              b   ­       a           e         by emotions carved on
our trunks
We burn for one another
like a forest fire,
but if we all fall to the flame
we will soon be men of  a  s   h    e     s ....

II
Where are the golden halos?
the jeweled crowns of the gods?
have they tumbled from the h e a v e n s
down below the sea
pass hell's gate
and into your hands?

They're looking for them,
they'll find you.
But not until April,
because Persephone will be back by then,
and hell will be less tense.
Until then, guard them.
You know the demons come out at night,
ready to bargin,
but dont make the deal.
Wait for April.
Wait for the flowers to bloom,
and the rain to fall,
before you return the crowns.

III
They came on horses
in gold and red.
My father and his friends stared at them
in the way only arrogant American men can.
They trotted on by with their horses
that wore blindfolds
and gold horseshoes.  
They did not say a word.
They did not look at anyone.
They
          did
                  nothing
            ­                     wrong.
My father sleeps with the blindfold on at night
and carries one of the horseshoes in his pocket.
I haven't seen the gold and red horse riders since they came
that one day
with no words to say
                                      and no eyes to be met
                                                             ­                  on their blinded stallions.
My father says we're not allowed to talk about them.
He doesn't let me wear red and gold anymore.