I
Lump of wood.
I split it,
I’m takin it.

II
Got it off a
red-cheeked maple
in Santa Claus, IN.

III
Lived to be cut down
thanks to the
Paperwork Reduction Act
of 1995.

VI
I was of three minds,
like a lump of wood
in which there are three logs.

V
In a storm
there is only gas
(breath of earth)
and wood
(mother’s heart).

VI
When a leaf burns
it becomes a star.
When it changes color,
a crimson decision.
Fall the time of its choosing.

VII
How many lumps of wood?
How many fires?

VIII
The smoke only
stings my eyes
when I leave
the fire's side.

IX
The coals a meditation
crumbling to heat
the future.

X
Its denouement ashes,
when spread over beds,
a singular taste
in next year’s tomatoes.

XI
In the end there is only
whiskey and wood,
a balm against
splenetic mood.
And windows frosting over
in the mind,
and memories of bark
shedding like a rind.