seven times seven (a rhyme)

(written on Saturday, February 9, 2008, at 5:30 am)

Seven times seven
are not enough times
to get you to heaven
by writing what rhymes.

Sheets of burnt cookies
ev’n hell would decline
are baked by mere rookies
with trials few in time.

Stir up mind’s moist batter
grease sheets and drop lines
no promise will matter
if consumation’s mere mime.

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Pietro’s dream

(prompted by reading a portion of the Rigveda
and written on Sunday, December 10, 2006, early in the morning)

Hungering for remedy
Pietro peeled garlic
pulled from ground
his fathers worked before him.

They’d taught him their magic
for feeding themselves,
but he learned
the unspoken hunger
on his own.

Attuned to riddles,
he heard a song one night
the riddle maker of dreams sang:
“I am once center and bounds.
All else but semblance be.”

Pietro longed for attunement’s promise:
new harmonies of cosmos,
when re-semblance replaced discordance
and all ears heard sweet music playing.

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