measuring pain

my pain can be measured
by the flickering flames of
fire burning in the corner
of my tear stained eye

it can be measured by the
angles of rays of sunlight
and moonlight as they pass
over the wild, bleak moors

my pain is there in the distance
as the blackbird files searching for pies
and near in the flock of
sheep counting until they go to sleep

it is in the spots on dalmatians
running down the road in single file
and in the tails of nine cats
staring at the world from a tree

my pain is in the well of oil
that spurts from the burnt crust
of sliced earth leaping from the
frying pain into the funeral pyre

my pain is here, there
it is high and low
it has no end and no beginning
i can see it in the stars