To say a dead corpse
would be redundant

But Wood can some
how Still be alive

We fire up the human fat
For our catapults
It’s not a Mongol thing
It’s a human thing

An education in
Self soothing

Time to stretch things out
Read the skin and entrails
Consult the eight ball
Plot our next move

A larger cup is not the solution
To our cup a day ration

Bless me father
My hair has thinned

We learn to Speak
softly to a dying wind

Especially in wintertime
an especially Special
Time

Dead wood redundant

Arguments survive
For generations
And
generations

Empty boxes
Old milk
Long past it’s use

A heart is just a wheel
stuck in dried mud

Sometimes
a simple revolution
Is all that’s needed