The Fragrance
This morning when I awoke,
My pipes were frozen.
So I went climbing
And returned home late at night.
I didn't shower
And my hair began to grow.
By July my pipes were thawed,
But not before I smelled
The fragrance of myself.
Raising Earth
Can you see the wheels turning inside my head?
Shall I put clothing back on those stripped gears?
Can you hear the synapses firing inside my brain?
Does it sound like a small bush war?
Or do I think like an old tractor plowing,
Raising earth, bringing up the soil of love?
Fall
I saw Fall,
Awakened by old Summer's dryness,
Wearily getting to his feet.
And somewhere,
Before summer's grip was loosening . . .
Three bent aspen,
A fractured rock.
Began He here,
In one lost motion,
One more masterpiece.
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