Night Travel

Worn and rows of walking stones

past high grass and weeds

walking by its thin bone arms

with palms turned high

propping a large mirror

against a polished sky

in the still damp air

a spent night breeze

the patched and overgrown

and nothing of the trees

standing above

the rows and thin stones

standing afield beneath the sky

a procession of bagatelle

their slowsteps by and by

their feet their feet

in the grass pass by

and blood suckers in the sodden tune

and the stones crumbled to the ground!

 the stones crumble to the ground!

and than it's found

her skeleton of a shadow of a hand

above a hand and a sunken chest

and next to and next

the turned soil a new found grave

scarred the soiled hands

that our mothers gave

funeral flowers piled on high

yellow but black and turned

open to the dragging sky

and than and than

as the night birds sing

a sleep to sleep

a slow death brings

I watched

I watched your beuatiful hand crush a brittle leaf

I watched you stop before a tree and pluck a brow leaf

I watched you hold it by the stem and smile

I watched your teeth grind as you crushed it

  and dropped it dead for Autumn

I saw your face as it meant to begrudge the leaf

   the gentle carrying procession wind

Wild Eyes

Can you think of the child

  wild eyes

  for a child

  fire-knife-gripping

   eyes

   I shivered

   before they burned

   I looked away

   and then I turned

   his eyes carved

   a smile

   in my back

My Coffee

I would like my coffee

 So Black

That I want to feel

More and More

  Evil

and Corrupt

with each Raven

Sinful

  sip