st. somebody of everywhere

there is a flame
that bears my name
flickers by a
windowpane

in the window
there is stain
that shows a man
healing the lame

he’s looking down
and looking sad
as if the lame
who reach
are bad

perhaps they do not
have a flame
or anyone
to pray their name

frozen in an almost
pose
above the rigid
empty rows

and all the little
flames that dance
cannot melt
the icy glance

cast from saints
upon the lost -
to die
is gain
to live
the cost.

A Pomme, A Poem, A World to Roam

Take a pomme
and boil it,
take a poem
and eat

take the love
you fear the most
and cleave to its conceit.

Take me to the forest, dear
take me to the moon
take my hand and tell me, dear
what time you mean by soon.

Take a pomme
and fry it up
take a poem
and peel it

take the hate
you’ve bottled up
and free it when you feel it.

Take me to the circus, dear
take me out to dance
take your time and tell me, dear
what hope there is in chance.

Take a pomme
and bury it
take a poem
and live it

take your bruised
and battered heart
and kiss me
as you give it.