We Are

We are
too dense to breathe
too soft to kill
too cold to die

We are
made of silk
spun sweet as amber
whistling wisps of jade wind
a cacaphony of birds and wolves

We are
close-hewn and rough-cut
beetles and ramikins
shorn sheep and tulip blossoms
all afloat on crackling seas

We will not be silenced

Not 'til bleeding wood
finds its way on force-fed feet
to the crooked ends of the earth

We will follow our fear
and eat it raw.

We are we are we are
We.

Elegy June 2016

The crow's hoarse shofar drowns
the dancing trill of songbirds.
"Death. Death. Death," it warns
by the muted glow
of a cloud-cast dawn.

There is a special providence in
the fall of a sparrow
the uplifted ends of green leaves
a blush of rainbow
a whirling storm of apple blossoms.

One, two, ten, fifty -
fifty souls fall to earth
and rise again
crying "Kyrie Elaison!"

Where do flowers go
when they die?

Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
"The Lord be with you."
And also with you.