liver is nothing new
but liberty is a finer stew
james of the woods
john of the cage
rest in these glades for awhile
for rest stops abound
only on a southbound train
heading nowhere
near your destination
you undress the millions of dollars
you have hidden in your sneakers
your feet are bankers
and your shoes undertakers
remnants of the ancient soul
drown in the pounding rain
you whiten your hair in the snow
and wipe off the dust and dirt
that’s gathered round the stove
frozen like compound interest
between two relative fingerprints
this mist is just as close as your nose
and your feet are two dancing elephants
engaged in drunken rhetoric
they fund two lumpy stockings
with a legacy of coal
and **** these empty cottages
rented in the heat of summer
till the blackest ashes turn white
you churn the butter
through the dampness of the night
until the rose of morning
is ready to ignite
the flight of the seagull
comes with no warning
and the sound of a star falling
is what whets your appetite