1.
If the pin oak took a shingle
and the wind another,
I'd say the roof is like a gray
balding man in winter.

2.
Nor can I climb there.
Fall leaves like broken brittle
teeth have choked the gutters.
Soon ice. Up there is horrible.

3.
Wisdom, too. Slouching
in the attic, making a pattern
of footprints, I stopped to read it.
A dead language. Dust.

4.
Dearest Ann, why do you love me?
When I take the nails and the hammer
a door invariably is ajar. Fragile
figurines tilt on the slanted shelves.

5.
Once, my soul
descended into the basement
with a pointless treasure map
to the corners of dark and cold.

6.
A thousand years is turning.
Summer last we hauled rocks
to the lakefront to shore up
the yard of Festus seed.