Poetry

A box full of kindling

You start by cross-dressing,

trying out every hat

and pant-suit

you can lay your snatching hands on.

Taking a nip

here and there

without even knowing,

pollinating the dry wood

with a peppering of ideas

and choosing to tempt

Pandora with the wild taste

of the unwritten.

An input always needs an output;

you present the light-child

who carries it.

Advertisements