what does one do with ruin
who is ordained to bring
order to the land & seasons
to flowering i am no king
languishing at the border of life &
death waiting for
an elixir of bird-song or magic
no bottomless wellspring am i
gladness ready to pay off
tithe collectors in the morning
what does one feed the furnace
always eager to devour to shreds
leashed dogs no less heartsick
than those without
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.