My tubes are empty.

We are told we must fill them with precious jewels

Precious jewels? I do not have such things as these.

I take a handful of polished stones

And put them in my tubes.

They still look empty.

I visit my neighbor–

An old man, lying in bed.

His tubes are full!

–twigs, birds nests, four leaf clovers,

rocks, water, soil

songs–

“These are the precious things in my life,” he says.

And though his blood has stopped

And his wound 

Would never heal

He lived

On the precious jewels

–Of his soul’s life