on standing still.

"knowing well that those that know don`t talk & those that talk don`t know."

C-Minor

"We're not half as bad as God is good."

the foxes.

&no matter how much i talk,
no matter how well i talk,
it`s only stupid talk!
oh! i could not rid myself of you[r words] if the forest`s trees were pens,
&all the oceans filled with ink!

for those who love with too much grace:

I`m jealous of you, you know.
Of your ability to be so innocently honest
to explain to me in paradoxial terms
how difficult it is to be here today.
&oh, how I feel.
Believe me, I know it well.
If the rest of my life was to be spent in this way,
well,
then so be it.
But if I could free--If I could cultivate just one drop, watching it sprout &bloom--I fear I would become the richest child in that paltry kingdom!

Oh! to want one thing!
[Purity of heart]

a messy, full life: part 1.

January, 1979. [May, 1987.]
Saw a terrible crash and I couldn`t help but laugh,
As my ear pressed against the past like a glass on a wall of a house in a photograph.
My forehead no longer sweet with holy kisses worthy of Your fiery lips.
I was floating in a peaceful sea "rescued" by a sinking ship.

If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If I could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If could be your servant]
If I could become the servant of all, no lower place to fall. [If I could be your servant]

You watch me like a ten car highway wreck with detached, vulgar curiosity.
This looking down at the tops of the hats of us passers-by from your seventh floor balcony.
From such a height you missed creatures too small for sight carry on covert conversations.
And the misguided insects crown me their grasshopper king with a dance of celebration.

After years with a crown on my head, I`ve grown overfed, unconcerned, &comfortably numb.
Kept busy indulging in the pleasures of the wealthy.
[Someone make me afraid of what I`ve become!]
At the first sign of possible sorrow, I turned my heels &ran.
[Oh, I`ll never learn.]
My life is a cup of sugar I`ve borrowed before time began &forgot to return.

It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [I could be your servant]
It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [If I could be your servant]
It was a matter of time--I always said I could see so now I`m going blind. [I could be your servant]
It was a matter of miserable time-- but I heard somewhere there was a cure for useless eyes? [If I could be your servant]

and not one motion her gesture could I forget.

The prettiest bag lady I ever met.
Pushing her cart in the rain, then gathering plastic and glass
She watched the day pass,
Not hour by hour... but pain by pain.
I was a basket filled with holes, &she was the sand I tried to hold
That ran out behind me as I swung with some invisible hand.

I stopped believing, You start to move
[She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine]
I stopped my leaving &the better man bloomed
[&You can pour us out and we won`t mind]

I was dead then alive,
She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine;
You can pour us out, we won't mind,
As scratch around the mouth of the glass, "My life is no longer mine."

&if you`re still looking for a blanket, sweetie,
I`m sorry, I'm no sort of fabric;
But if you need a tailor... then take your torn shirt, stumble up my stairs,
&mumble your pitiful prayers and in your tangled, knotted sleep,
Our midnight needles go to work until all comfort and fear flows in one river
Down in the shop by the mirror where you see yourself whole... and it makes you shiver.

I stopped believing, You start to move
[She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine]
I stopped my leaving and the better man bloomed
[& You can pour us out and we won`t mind]

I was dead then alive,
She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine;
You can pour us out, we won`t mind,
As scratch around the mouth of the glass, "Our lives our not our own."

Even the wind lay still,
Our essence was fire and cold & movement, movement...
Oh, if they ask you for the sign of the Father in you,
Tell them it`s movement, movement, movement &... repose.

four word letter, part 2.

we have our beliefs.
but we don`t want our beliefs.
God of Peace,
we want You.

she put on happiness like a loose dress.

You dance inside my chest, where no one sees You,
But sometimes I see You
Rejoice.

closer to my age.

I like that when two people enjoy one another, nay, love eachother, perhaps even more than themselves, they wed.
I truly do.
I also like that with a forehead covered in salty sweat and hands pricked by grass clippings, I could not love my father more.

and it read like a horn blown

it was me, bunny, who let you down.