Short Pickaxe Poems

Teach them just enough words to know
a pickaxe from a pencil…. just a few practical words
for practical applications, not too many,

otherwise they might turn into poets,
and god-knows we don’t need any more of that....

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As if by other ears,
you hear the trees cracking,
a black ice splitting the sky,
a pickaxe laying bare
night’s white bones.

Sleepers arise
still dreaming of such things.

A cave, and inside
that carved-out ear
the dreams of others’
troubling you
into a kind of love.

And was it you walking
angrily away
driven wild and shouting,
with a night-gale roaring
in some other ear?...

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