Thursday, November 25

music must soothe

i read into your mind, to tell that you are shouting. therefore, i must cry and not talk.
tears sell slowly, they are a few weeks old and are eager to come, whoever said you
cause me pain, or you, cause me pain, tears are a blind eye's way to touching the
world even with new beauty when there are faces around you don't want, all that
matter like dreams is the glow of that feeling, the blue-touch and the depth of knowing
like no other-maybe you did. i am blind and still running. tomorrow when i don't speak
i'll cut the pain into, and see how much it lasts. till then for years and less sing well.

Monday, November 22

god, see how i have made my bed
tell me that it counts
and warmth among other things
so i can tell you other wonderful
stories about the rescue
and the explosions in the sky
and the falling in love
before that
that i also wait for spring
to be a woman
waiting, for the bells to ring
half an hour later
then to purse my lips
against all the scratching
so i can get a sleep of
warmth, sucker for warmth
and lie with all the other trees
while they lie awake breathing
i like the little man,
he teaches me things i do not have