| MESSAGES
an enormous sky weighs on
frostblanched knuckles and roots and
frozen fields
Cloud hoods the skulking sun
and holds down the prisoner
thin cattle moon over their rough luck
their hooves stir earthworms
A crow struts about and swears loudly
Silence
I do not desire on this damp earth bunk
for a home
I will make no fuss to rummage around
in the locked box of the sky
for enormous things
FAITH
(for Ahila)
I am seeing the wick burn down
Oil falling on the prayercloth like bittersmoke
Bowing at the age eaten altar pieces
Where the gods have grown shabby
Like great grand parents revered and ignored
For a while I scrutinize their faces
See if I am seen
Before I stray to the steps and
Carry out my faith like my mat
Rolled pressed to my ribs |