pen

when

there

is

nothing

to

pen

why

scratch

head

like

a

hen

scratching

ground

that

has

no

worm

making

her

poetic

cluck

cluck

and

cluck

sleep

and

if

woken

by

a

hen-pen

early

tomorrow

words

will

flow

from

pen

as

eggs

from

hen

henry victor     11.08.2002

my envy

i envy the log

that disintegrates into the flame

into death

and into ash

reintegrating into her beginning

and final peace

i envy the raindrop

that drowns deeply into the ocean

into death

and into vapor

reintegrating into her beginning

and a new creation

henry victor     01.08.2002