it's strange, how the Earth will call
when there is an impending shudder
to every creature, large and small
so it can find a measure of cover.
the forest silence as Earth begins her toll
from rumbling, rugged, crumbling lips
"watch out, for soon i begin to roll-
scurry from the meddling fingertips
of frivolous gods," the Earth intones.
"hide in the streams, the roots, the trees
protect yourselves from eyes enthroned."
and the meekest deer and the smallest bees
take solace in Earth's solid strength
and conceal themselves in spots unseen
for the shaking, painful length
of Earth's groaning, tearing keen.
a star rattles in the seashell
lift it to your eye
the light will turn the corner
death rattles in the opera house
look through the window
a small emptiness, but black
a heart rattles in the drawer
look in the drawer below
molten courage may touch your face
a whisper rattles in the moon
look up and see its whiteness
or is it silver, or cold?
fear rattles in the open window
look outside, will it pass you by?
find someone else to taunt and haunt.
love rattles in your soul
look inside, it is lonely
bring it songs and laughter.
i put my hand in my pocket
to my surprise, Something was there--
Something soft and bright.
i took my hand out
and in it was Love.
i couldn't use this Love.
i decided to give it to someone
(i had Someone in mind).
so, Happy i looked
to give my Love and maybe
get some Love i could use.
i found Someone
and tried to give Someone the Love
but Someone just stood there
and the warm, bright Love fell on the floor
and shattered into cold, dark Sad.
we are the music makers
we are the dreamers of dreams
wandering by the lone sea breakers
and sitting by desolate streams.
world-losers and world-forsakers
on whom the pale moon gleams
we are the movers and shakers
of the world forever, it seems
her pale, pale eyes
nearly inhuman viewed
the world with a dispassionate
impartial, but intense gaze
detached with undercurrents of dependence
then she quailed in shock
and went under
and was fragmented by a color.
we could learn to ballroom dance
pretend that we're in paris, france
sipping champagne, seeing stars
eating cheese and caviar
you could put the piano in the kitchen
you can play while i cook and listen
let parade music rise and fall
marching up and down the hall
music isn't all there be
(look at my hypocrisy)
sometimes i can't control
myself, and go to have a bowl
or cereal, with my cat
and let her have some milk that
could make her sick if she has too much
but then you remind me of such
things that tend to bring me
crashing to reality.
this is what i think of
when not caught in the tide of love
that pushes me with tender care
cushions me and stirs my hair
warm, but not too hot to bear
back and forth in the air
ferries me on waves of thought
and ties me with a sturdy knot
to act the figurehead of a ship
that plunges forward in the night
peaches aren't like apricots
peaches are juicy
sticky sweet
crystallish clearish wet
big and round
and a little soft
they make a little popping sound when bitten
they are also too alive to draw well.
apricots aren't.
they are little
with pointy ends
Yes,
they have fuzz
and they make a popping sound
but they are pale
with no bright bloom of life.
And I can draw apricots
