in ten seconds i
scratched out five pages last night
and for the next five minutes i
felt it leave me
wandering through a garden
she told me of the
loathsome
through the blackened valley
the garden grew to
pastures
and as the foothills rose
he found the mountains
and clay castles
he found the walls the men had
made
he bowed down to pray a spell
and his deliverance and his shadows
all joined his eyes
the sad clown bent to wonder
and sometimes when the
sun don't shine
we find comfort as we hypnotize
our heart into loving our surroundings-
finding a reality that is drowning
-cult affairs and three more rivers
dying.
the first which flows under
my feet
and cools them enough to go
is drying as it spawns the
second flow. -the next,
crests, washes hate with tears
and recedes to leave the
simple salts
which blow from drought-gorged eyes
and land upon the third
which begins where reservations fail
and oneness allows the silent
pass to somehow, quietly do.
the last dying river which
cuts my cheeks as tears
of glass stream naked
from behind my mind
and to a cold, wood floor,
mixing with the rusted alloys
left for future noise.
en silencio por que quiero,
y quiero por que no tengo.
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