25 June 2014

ambrosia is in the eye of the beholder.

a waif
so small
so naif
brown hair
in braids
brown eyes
up raised
one palm
up turned
one cent
hard earned
stale bread
day old
hard crust
and cold
"it's yours.
it's free."
"thank you,

22 June 2014

in the aluminum bog

when i was a younger man,
and plywood fish swam free,
we'd catch 'em and skin 'em all we want -
build a house in every tree.

you know trees are made of aluminum -
you know they get cold at night,
but nice little bit of plywood
keeps a body warmed just right.

plywood fish aplenty to build with,
sawed with teeth of diamond dogs,
sealed right up with potato glue -
that was life in th'aluminum bogs.

but life's so different today, son,
hardly anyone lives out here now,
'cept for you and me and your mother,
along our aluminum bough.

all the plywood fish went to houses.
all the diamond dogs went to saws.
glue taters won't grow in the dry land
that was once th'aluminum bog.

and that's why we're leaving now, son,
why we're climbing down outta this tree.
there's nothing left here for us --
for you, or your momma, or me.

19 June 2014

a merry funeral pyre

i put a blanket around my heart
it's thick
like your face
and sticky
like paste
and i put it on tight
it'll be there all night
the blanket around my heart

into the woods i go
they're dark
like your face
and sticky
like paste
and the branches are tight
i'll be there all night
into the woods i go

hedgehogs dance round the fire
the little one sings
what a sad joy she brings
flames lick low boughs
it's a forest fire now
hedgehogs dance round the fire