Party Jungle

Pincers

These are the hot dog days,
natural, less studied
whose calculated misbehavior
is a picture of true boys
crowd into the back seats
feet that make toe-dancing
sleeping porches, scrambled eggs
pork chops and pincers,
a moat, a throne
gone to the circus
and certified the clowns.

(for JCRW)

For Jill

Sometimes, the tough heart

Isn’t hardened from without

But cauterized from within

A fire there burning

So hot, so madly

It simply crusts over

And looks hard

To the impatient eye.

Yet for those willing

To stand firm

Bound to the earth

By faith in what

You know must be there

The reward, now uncontained

Is a tender stampede

Of all you wished for.