sometimes
i miss the lost days
of the world wide and the sky gray
and full of seven clouds

the sky clear and ashen cold
so that the brain freezes and the viscous
blood struggles through viens of sad stone

there was a hole in the sky
that was you
and now it is full and i am full
no need to fill the emptiness with poems

and even this poem needed an end
just as i need an end to my means
the lack of a hole to fill
in frozen dreams

i licked the frozen eyes of lost children
to free the trapped tears from the ice
that covered every little
dead face

poor tom's a-cold