Birthday poem. //
(A fool, having no knowledge of debt,
does not choose their sacrifice.
Nonetheless it is chosen, discovered
by time and un-made into wisdom. With
balanced account,
)…(
the learned-by-suffering, seeing-
but-feelingly goes, as, making-as-
offering heart-over-spilling down into
the wordy-deep well of justice. And,
the humbled source speaks
)…(
of w-i-l-d responsibility
as animals apparent play wicked
transubstantiation. Each crea-
tor’s device is to make failure
thus. So,
)…(
the crab shells were empty. They
skittered crossways on silken sand, brief,
funny little things. With crescent claws,
and ivory carapace cradling
the sacred syllable,
)…(
Om.)