Garden Birds

A great spotted woodpecker hangs on the bark
of a birch tree and hammers till its dark;
siskins on rowan twigs quiver with desire,
coal tits fall on fat balls hung on garden wire.

a first storm

wind beneath the door
its linoleum rattle
like a dying bird
on the lobby stairs

All the work was numbered

As the work was numbered;

so was it set down.

…factotum omnium artium magister nullius…

Lies

Yesterday, liars spoke,
and we believed what we believed.