Wednesday, December 23, 2015


First, the lost guy says, “At last,
a street I recognize.”
Then he asks, “Are you who I’ve come to see?”
“It’s not that I have to be,” I say,
“We’re doing things differently now.”

Inventing the chair, women used colors
men were afraid of. 
It worked.
Priapus dressed up, before he sat down.

I could see that the kids were busy,
out in the garden, weeding, 
so I said, “Alright, let’s got for a walk.”
We went around the corner.

“To fit me for a suit,” he said,
“We’ll measure this little world.”
“Then we can describe it,” I said,
            “as my own making, but another’s impulse.”
He smiled.

“You’ve rendered it well,” he said,
            “especially my fondness for light;
soon we will part the black flames
            dancing inside its heart.”