Sonnet 1
Origami cranes fed to the sunset
folded with arthritic knuckles tired
with gunpowder eyes staring out
over to the window prying the blinds out
past the rotting fence the red barn
all the fool's meadows lined with sunset
It would be useless to run now
setting down your paper wings
bushmills and k-hole in-tow
a blown out throat singing
of a sky as grey as God's own dream
that echoes in your lowdown rumble
you dance with all your loose seams
dance waiting for the room to shrivel
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