warm is the fire that burns under stovetops
warmer is your knitted alpaca coat
you made us a dinner
yams,
veal,
whiskey and cornbread...
let me assist you,
enjoying your labor

honey, you are deserving of ev-er-y welcome
ev-er-y welcome deserving and true
if we could keep this warm autumn night
always,
i'd choose to have it,
always with you.

oh, they come in the troves of a’thousands
yes, the gulls overhead come in troves
watching the water as they appear,
and take every saltwater fish from the sea
this is the season of music a'plenty
but plenties tend to appear and recede...

tales from a bench by the fire
in a home so lichened,
recently it sprouted a tree on the roof
this home was constructed
a thou-sand years,
before any knowledge of myself was conceived.

so take every fish from every sea
and take every stock of red beeberries
here i will rest and refill my glass
as the tree on the roof will observe life and death,
these seasons of cold will come and then pass.

i've never seen such
astounding things
a discovery made
on a passage within

i recall sleeping
in celestial cots
made up of cygnus,
pavo,
the enticing lot

green velvet curtains drawn
block out the sun
although the windows are no more than
one
surrounded
by ivies, scripture
and platinum-tipped
pens
the era of thought
all within my
mind...

i awaken from slumber to quite different sights

the very same forces that prevail in this place,
the forces above
alluding, brooding

the thief comes too smug,
wind thrashes the sails
a cynical offering,
all grief to repent,
the season of starving,
the season of lent

isn't it odd how the winds never billow?
over the strangest utopian lands
the islands of women with no trace of men
the archipelagos of shellfish on land
and that one place due north...
beyond arctic bird coves
where wisps of the sky
grace plat-inum snow

the things that you see when it's dark on the ocean
four sailors drunken on laughter and autumn-***
down though the seabed
the lowest of shores
the music through rafters,
flutes clamor and roar...

torn and burdened is the world,
but brokenness never equated unworth
the land once which was
trodden,
the seas overcame
i nod off to sleep
just to shake off the pain
the forces come crashing,
formed over the bluff
indifferently shouting,
unrighteously tough

here from my balcony
on french-spanish estate
once indifferent forces,
concluding in rain.