Revisions for my new, still untitled book are nearly completed, including this poem.

 

WARES

I need a good barrel. Or barrelful.

Beer, rain, oil, doesn’t matter,

Just give it to me

Then go

 

Or come, oh nuisance caller,

Nothing to sell, less to share.

Will we ever buy into one another?

Exchange crowns? Silence crickets,

 

Respective niggles?

‘Tis folly, seeking sanctuary

Beneath a bat-roosting tree.

Their jaunty black-sky scribbles

 

Invade our periphery,

Jolt our creaky alliance.

Cold in front of the fire,

Burning side by side,

 

Stones skip beyond us, the

Cinema of sunset so banal

It provides no sidetrack.

Score. Or anything we want.