Poems

Surely

Someone send me a spaceship
a solo sapien says I can-
Shouts I should-
tries to pry screws and nails
from flesh-bound wood-but only
splinters explode, shatter
shards all around 
in spiraling barbs

Perhaps it's best to
stand in wait,
hang until some saintly spores
materialize and soften the grain:
a prolonged state in which 
to hesitate
for progression weakens the tension of
bent coins hovering above dusty fountain

Surely
this bundling board
will have to stay
until then, time will waste it away
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Poems

Dead Tree Song

Singed thricefold:
times of peace, and
once, of war.

Bugs as scales replaced
strong bark,
thus confidence was stripped.

Most children are frightened
and the ones that visit
do so only to crack,
fracture, destroy what limbs 
gravity kindly left

The ants carry away
dead slivers
while the rest wait 
for fungal company

Moonlight shoots through
serrated gaps of dead life:

   a spotlight on the dead tree's
             song.