I will leave my children
A body of my life's work:
An empty tarnished chalice and the contents therein
A brief explanation of how we find irony timeless.  

Tonight we burn paper
And who we were 15 days ago
What remains is what we quest to be: Fire and ash  

11.9.11

Potted Plant Out of Sink

On the brink of tipsy
No shilly-shally smile
Stray hairs of hers are wispy
Unruly wind-whipped wild

Spore borne spare change

Falling out pockets holy
Handstands falling hands full

Firmament the concrete handfuls
Mixing minds are happy
Empty