Folk Song

And I can't get better
No I just get harder
There is no mother
There is no father

And the earth awaits me
It spins so casually
Beneath my stumbling feet

Baby there is no water
The oven just gets hotter
Why do we even bother
Why do we even bother

And the earth awaits me
It lays there patiently
Beneath my stumbling feet

I dream of flying
Of mountains sighing
Of great releases
And honey kisses

But I can't get better
No it just gets harder
No wings for sister
No high for brother

And the earth awaits me
Waits to embrace me
Beneath my stumbling feet

Generators

A taking away.
A subtraction.
An outline as big as the sky.
A walking stick,
Leaned against the front door
Casts a shadow of its likeness
Bigger than the deep sun:
A swallowing.
A meeting of tastes.
God walks through these poems
As sure as death.
As certain as rain.