there is nothing poetic
about walking away from friends
to get a cup of coffee
in the cold.
it is just cold
even if you burn yourself
just cold

is that dirt on my thumb?
it may be
is that a car in the drive?
it may be
is that a word
carried from the wind
to ring everywhere
and to resound;
I don't care

I am not fierce enough
to do and say
what greatest takes
what greatest needs
I am needless wordless
but only not heartless
wan, rye
and mostly stricken
by doubt
of voice
and reason

yes,
reason is generally worthless
a stark collector
with no pardon
with not a kiss of suspicion

and yes
I keep a cold house
for why not wear
a sweater
indoors