Untitled

When blood spills,

the devil dresses in silk

the gown of ignorance.

As children cry,

the money-minded

wait in lines to buy,

another product of the soil.

After the dust is blown away,

the fields are empty shelves

that carry nothing to sate the hunger

of infinite wants.

[6 SEP 07]

Socks

Worn full of holes,

but neatly folded into a ball

stacked carefully into a

single drawer.

Curiously,

the socks never dance into a bag

for auto shop oil spills.

Nor do they hide the calloused feet

that carry a man

across an open field

frosted in ash.

[20 SEP 07]