On the Edge of Definition

I put the wrong words to this
the wrong sounds

I hear, from years ago, an echo
and struggle to fit today
into old bottles

These words are wrong
I don't know the right words

~ ~ ~


You must be 80
I've seen you strut around the park

Today, I realised
I hadn't seen you for a while

Your collapsed shoulder, tilted neck
Broke me up

~ ~ ~

The damned wrought

I found him dead, over the woods
cold, he had no one
just a clutch of useless, plain crystals

I'd seen him at the market, Friday
I told him, if you want to sell those things
you need to tart them up a bit

~ ~ ~