She sat on high
Thick legged
In simple summer frill
And damned right she didn’t care
Since he was cozied close
Parisian-like despite their li’l bungalow
Quite pleased, most pleased
With the noisy air
The abundant lack
And the red lipstick
Some other song
Still the cello’s rolling drawl
Still the violin fiddling with convention
Still the red and grey and wooded
And white
Still the notes hanging, then slow-motion wafting
On high
Still the Beautiful
The simple I gladly announce
What they describe daily
Will always and ever elude
We who find ourselves
Teasing
Out of hiding
The simple epic
Cat hair blanket
Cry in’ pillow
Red music sheets
Too-tall mattress
Concrete headboard
Trackless dreaming
Find a secret place
Pray
A gun in his hand
A gun in his hand
Hate put a gun in his hand
Taught to fear
Classmates he held dear
He’s eight with a gun in his hand
Similes use me
Metaphors mock me
Memories fail to existTo be as loved
To be loved
To resemble
To becomeWhat is it like
What is this
Let each Day be a brick
A brick placed in the wall
The wall inscribed with words
With words only for me
For me you were the hope
The hope I’d love again
Love again you fool
You fool brick wall of words
I will sing praise regardless
To that kindred spirit
To her brilliant eye
I pray for her wings and her joy
May she remain unguarded
Surrounded in friendship
Surrounded by love
Unyielding in ferocity
One step then the next
Open your eyes and fret not
Go about the day
Stranger hold your tongue
And keep your distance
Should you hold my hand
Then lose your manners
