Paid in Full


A lucid posture
Admist broken skies
Black with the Tar
From the earth.

Old man ponders with intensity about forthcoming drought
Of locusts in the corn fields
When tis season of the Ripe
Harvest seems red this time.

Turn the stone
To water, He said
How, He did not
Leaving the hands caught in
The Grapevine.

Meander in his waltzing glory
Giving up need
Bohemian times require rapid measures
Of self construction