Month: April 2013

I fancy myself a fine craftsman
 with fortitude enough for a mansion,
someone who adorns, with gold filigree,
 the polished, stained pine
 and keeps each room
  appointed, waiting
  for the assessor’s gaze.
Had I known it was my home I was crafting,
 I would have squatted upon a pond and been
someone who has enough fire
 and just enough wood
  to live.

Little boy,
you just have a patch
 to hide your nakedness.

Patch after patch
 — too much needlework —
 until you are emperor.

All patched up, no place to go.