Barcarolle

I would want you always love,
Forever will you with me,

So days between are not so much
When counting with eternity.

I think about you often,
Lonely, gondoliering fenland drains

Singing laments of nature,
How can anything stay the same.

Dig A Hole

My barren mind will oftentimes
Grasp for levelled words,
Its fallow field’s infertile,
Dreams dissolved to dirt.

I’d try to shake myself awake
Like thorns within a curse;
Letters in life’s word-game rattle,
A rib-cage emptied verbs.

Unpaid workers dug a hole,
They formed a pile of earth;
They bound me to a bloodied pole
Not far from my place of birth.

I did not even question how
These trap doors are not doors;
A lever, flattened oak-wood opened,
As out my soul then poured.