“ there are two ways of getting home and one of them

  is to stay there”

 – G.K Chesterton

no more does

the calumet play,

and animals grieve

infancy is

a milk-white

bone of clay

street, a din of

rutted people with

sinkhole eyes

market is of dosed

jambolan plum, cabbage

pomelo and beet

meditative ink

bloodies refrain

diminishes heart

mystique is

ghost of light

mercury of dark

crow on the ledge

raucous as ever

her demand

the daily morsel

of life, undisputed

always home, stays.