Fear

The world
is small enough
to be a grave stone
for me one day.
Does it matter
which dirrection
I stretch my feet?

Ladle

Like a pot of sour soup, 
boiled with bile 
and the spit of the poisoned children
I was stirring the universe 
and watching the turns it was taking.

-then throwing logs off of men under it.

you are the eye of the universe.
in the night next to the stars
it is you with whom all converse.

Do not

Do not complain of old age.
it comes with time only,
And the privileged have it.

all

that appears is not.