poetry

a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
beside a stricken field
in mournful numbers
i make my shroud, but no one knows
are you awake?
babylon-where i go dreaming
gingham dog and the calico cat
uplifting, as the wind blew
awful truths these be
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
along the banks
he speaks not well