i was hollow of tree
all chicken wire & song
come that october country
of hoarfrost & dream
rime burnt leaves stained
gold to vermilion & bole
crumble wake perfumed
i waited there alone for
that coming of you
rook & madder
flint & score
crow & calling
bone & fall
i was hollow of tree
all chicken wire & song
waiting mists alone for
that coming of you
Category: poetry
hollow of tree
throwing hands
why write poetry at all
when there is the wind
that carries 'hallo hallo'
of the crow, high up in
the cottonwood tree, to me?
i throw both hands away
and reply with the sametoad shit
cleaning toad shit
off the front stoop
under the threat
of rain;
a reflection of my
over-polished mirrorrain under glass
sometimes we are all storm
with clouds iron heavy the sky and
weighty chains to rattle drag
a train flowing heart at behind
dress sensible, station shoes, silk:
a dream found you waiting
but we found you gone ahead
on and to without
with rain under glass —
left a crumbled platform
stormcloud in wantingwaters unswept by wind
i fell drunk from the wagon
in thrall of a stained glass you
piercing flint storms calling
winter back into view
you should know, the fall
left me thorned flesh
for years now, i have been
prying septic wood at teeth
of all the beautiful goodbyes,
yours left waters unswept
by windbreak the wheel
asking earth to embrace
bone, blood and
drink flesh to drunk
give eyes blind to stone
to a cairn of song
give all to ash and acorn
break the wheel and
scatter it allfuneral tears
self-loathing refreshed again
a useless fraud and loser
reminded of his place
there will be no tears
except maybe those of joy
when the funerals begingasps
deadwood slips to view
grown of long hand fingers
to cling at granite grey
under endless feathered blue
it is bones these ways
there, under the burn
just a kiss away
twine knotted taut
gives over to memories
gone to flint faded wine
under gasps of sandwaiting at
careful as silk
drift rise on breeze
carry our befores
gifted back to me
this happy death
waiting a' sea