1 New Poem

Yoiking

Sing a song for something,
for ice and fire, moccasin shoes,
antlers and spire case tree
forms,

you make it birch bark and
wine glass flow, carry that weight,
of rolling hill years in eyelet
circles,

skip-jump over dead wooding
shorelines, ring Glace Bay bells
to tribute fashion to drinking
jags,

and, most of all, have an offering

for deathbed’s tranquil that
meant pyres glow bad Borealis
shade.