a two-'fer (too/fur, to/for, two/four?)

[poetrees]

wot do you do when one of your editors thinks these are great/done and the other, uh, not at all in any way? post 'em locked. i guess.



“Every hair on your head
            has been counted.”

I can prattle on

arguments of angels,         pins,
            cultural significance of dreadlocks

but I don’t know
            that every blade of grass has a guardian whispering, “grow”
            how each weightless hair, can add up to a pound

(when shorn
            --rejoin the ground)



“manuscripts for private consumption”

Little lamb who made thee
            and thy flock
            into a book?

The passions
            and sorrows
of your skin

(an
            appetite for prayer)

whoever knew
            how much violence
            went into
            (isn't very becoming of)
                                    vellum.