With a kiss the steely minded

War of the Fragile - ends

Leaving both sides victorious.

Woven finger hands

Further proclaim the treaty.

Exhausted are the fallen.

Enthusiastic are the risen

Over the end of their derision.

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Right me thus.

Write me this.

Write, to right a wrong.

Write me a poem.

Wrong the line of a song.

For I am forlorn (and want to be adorned).

Write it down.

Right me now.

Write me now.

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There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.
Each creak guiding, reminding you of your place
Between the rise and the run
The rhythm within the space.
There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.

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Praise me if you wish

For yesterdays dish

The meal you did not finish

The sauce your spoon would not tarnish

The dinner you did not touch when it was fresh

Saying now this dish smells of Melville's fish

Do not consume the meal when the chef's gone to bed

Pay me no compliments after the dogs are fed

Who wants recognition after they’re trodden;

After they are gallows led?

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Love must never be an alone accessory

Love should always be fashioned in pairs.

For it will then be dressed in loveliness -

and thus be exquisite and most fashionable.

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Time is not concrete

Unless we meet

Then it runs free as a child

And all that be still

Be wild

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With my face buried in her hair

And my chest pounding at her breast

I am above the worries of things

Above the money and jewels of kings

Above the common suffering

Above everything

Above it all

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Autumn changes me

I grow stiff as a tree

The falling memories

Are piling all around me

And my color changes

Emptying into grey

I feel broken and cold

As the November rain

Turns into December Snow

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There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.

Each creak guiding, reminding you of your place,

Between the rise and the run,

The rhythm within the space.

There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.

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I have an ax and a hammer. 
With one hand I fall with the other I foster.
To the rise I fell.
With the fall I prosper.

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