Hammered Fate

The anvil’s smith
Dreams of clouds
As he hammers steel
Into iron bars.

With each bellow
Of his breath
Clouds billow
Into arid hydrants
Fueled by will

Too weighted
To move
They weep
In vain

As molten tears
Sear the earths
Encrusted plain;

Forged harbor
For a sea

That will

Never

be.

Moneychanger

The circles fall...
the clang
of change...

so many choices

reflected
in columns of light

held
between hands...
in custody

weighing...

what value
am I

today