The Grim Stars

The grim stars had held no special magic for the old boyo laddie himself
for he had long ago ceased looking at the clouds for a sign of things to come
the sweet birdsong barely stirred his oatmeal
lately looking and tasting more like sawdust
and some internal cloak had spread between his senses and emotions
and a moat between that and mentation.
he was like those dime store strung together elastic tension upsidedown marionettes
after you press the button the little figure falls into a heap


how fascinating 
to fall with such abandon
and spring back like nothing happened


I have blessed the small dog
and he hath blessed me
with a power of merely being,
why can I not carry this over
into the world beyond cats
the world beyond taxes and survival
where meat meets the road
and what is done, is done?