AWE TOME KNELL

AWE TOME KNELL

depart your brass
warm air, your
paper shredded skin,

all now is
leaving, leaving us
to chase behind,

ushered along by
some well deserved
chill.

DER MANN WARD ZUM SIEB

Der Mann ward zum Sieb,

in the particular, leaf rattling,

autumnal chill, deceit settles

to the bare ground, waiting to be

stir-

red up by your comings and go-

ings, fine particles for you to

inhale and filter, becoming, at last,

the machine for forgetting that

god meant you to be—

less tender, as the waiting begins,

for the world to freeze.