With all stones cast

With all stones cast

There’s a pot still boiling

And a kettle left black

There’s a house still standing

With thinly cracked glass

There’s a kink in the line

With a reel still intact

There’s a spell in the ether

Waiting to be cast

With all stones thrown

There’s a hole full of flesh

There’s a crack in the arrow

There’s an angry protest

Each body a story, color, and time

Each arrow head sharpened, pristine, and divine

Each voice becomes voiceless, estranged, and unkind

With all stones turned

There lies not a soul

The truth is but squalor

Results are annulled

In a garden of daisies

Rest youthful and old

A graveyard of rubble

for silver and gold?

Saturday morning

Saturday morning

woke me up

scratching and sour.

Then I wrecked my pants

feeling lousy, still

I went to my workshop

estranged from the world

yet there in that room

among strangers

who some

I call friends

I felt

Inspired

& well

Happy

So we told our stories

and while listening to Avi read about

Bob in a shipyard explosion

all that other stuff just kind of

went away.