Master Carpenter
serendipity all the way,
I work my way into the grain,
subsidising conversation
into
subsidised connectivity.
enjoying the silence,
I eat the mystery
of a little floating world;
in broken lines
I slowly take the top off
every crooked syllable,
leveling off
into the hidden painting
on your skin
variegation doesn't come easily
but i'll drop my apologies
i want to love you, Walt
i want to hear your age
and taste the flight of your songs
your words are my wine
i want to touch your bark-hard skin
and to know that wherever
I go in your sweeping trail
I will know what you mean.