Bitter fruit

Scientists grew tear ducts
In a jar
Spent the day in mockery
Until they cried
A seldom kind of love
For their bastard child
Poked and prodded, niggled
Shamed, curtailed
Obedience praised until
The organism wept
The experiment, upon repetition 
Bore bitter fruit
Inconsolably weeping
With just a half an hour’s 
Earnest jests

Icebergs & snowflakes

We are all old now
Or naively young


I turned the word
You gave
Like clay, separated
To nebulous parts
 Not quite rejoined again
Stretched, affixed, addended 
Made to serve the hollow shape
Of as yet undetermined meanings


Under the microscope 
Tears of anger, tears of grief
Tears of your everyday failures
Are as unalike as snowflakes


Melting in the caveats of your face


The ice shelf calves
The beast on unsteady feet 
Circumambulating a subpolar current


As if an isthmus masked
In cruciform Pierrot markings


A tedium’s dissolve
Slap away the proffered hand


Topsy-turvy islands
Far from reach
Image adapted from; Wilson Bentley and William Humphreys’ Snow Crystals (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1931).