fireplace

With the child she stands by the fireside, consoling tears
fallen branches cannot regrow, save the buds an early blossom
all oblivious to the angel standing behind them, a sword in hand
lifted high, glory brought forth from a babe's cry
the antechamber fills with dread sounds
a gurgling no parent should hear
her heart was not ready.


new shoes

In the cool of rain, small sounds magnified
new shoes: a callus will form in time
it's only mortals meeting in a chamber stiff
old air chokes madly
games played these days are brutal
I will write a letter; the breeze flies.


pile**

One atop another, gawky tries finesse, falls flat
pile on pile on pile
a range of mountains called my name
much like a needle in thick plush pile
they never found me
tig is lost of flicks and feats
possible genius reduced to numbers by idle hands.

I don't pretend to know (you), even as you slice up
the last quarters I have left.