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Poem 5: Ant Covered Candy

the i is grieved on
this lake. arising storm,
stir, cloud of leeches;
the hour is late & the
tainted heart has no eyes.
bring out the ration, for the
grating of beet red provision,
flounder to leaves, to devour,
to stain, to sting, to salt
to taste the vinegar. pucker
now the few, who may insatiably
feed on the skimp salad bed.

great, i am diminishing.

meager effort slips down the gullet
to crackle and dazzle like wet
fireworks. christen the vessel & call
her 'misgiving', drenched as she be
in resentment, seasoned with scant & bland herb.
i is not fooling me, i know it's not a good deed.

shout over the waves,
to harbor, to refuge, to wonder
how much i remains when
the boat arrives.
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