Can you grind yourself some meal?

Can you grind yourself some meal?

Can you make a little flour? 

Have you got yourself some starter that will rise it in an hour?

Have you got yourself a stove and some wood to get it hot

Ya gotta have a fire to boil the water that you got 

Can you catch yourself some game? 

Have you got a friend that can? 

If you trade him for some meal he might lend a helping hand.

Have you knives to skin a boar 

Have you strength to kill an oxe?

What will you use for medicine

When your wee ones get the pox? 

Do you know about the ginseng patch?

And the river bed ground cherries?

Have you brewed the tea with rose hips

And with sumac berries? 

Can you trap a rabbit, track a coyote? 

Run the ridges and take the low roads? 

Are you ready for the melee on the day 

The world explodes?

Mad Marchness

I used to start talking at the top and work 

my way down. 

I find my self in the middle now and the talk is aimed

at me and the differences I can't make. 

If I sit shirtless long enough my thoughts become 

disjointed and I can't think of another line. 

At least I'm not overly warm. 

-----

Candle light trickles down through the crack in the floor and my face pressed to the slim space between the joists and the cross braces catches the scent of cat pee and a dankness like the rats of the bloody flux running between my feet. 

This is not a place where I should stand, but here I am.  

A hushed darkness false with the promise of dawn erupts in a chorus of water droplets hitting the rubber rooftop and leaking down towards the cement pond. where the green duck weed grows and channels itself into an umber deity of greater older world, beneath and across from the senses we thought we failed, but bailed on instead. 

-------

If I drink to starlight and starlight drinks to me can I starlight be?

What if I'm already starlight, sterilized and striate drifting in an empty dream?

Would the color of a dawn wanderer wonder if I were reeling in the evening of my dusk?

-----

The musk of million years instrumental movie moves makes most moderate mention of Manassas but none of Bull Run. Interprets what yous cans from that. Mayhap methinks my time has come to drink the dream and sign the seem. To glint my eye at another prize, seek the lost of the humors and the last of the luminaries of last week weakening the hold steady beat of time and this heart of mine.