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Monday, November 29, 2004
Here is my face on a button, here we are as in olden days
There’s a neon cardboard collage on the walls in the halls
Like “can’t buy me love” and the new dance craze
A Little egg yolk and lemony hollandaise
We’ll stay up all night, our thoughts burning a ballet
Whispering Angel voices, a choir of cricket chirps
VSOP and Dandelion wine, things I have never savored
A pile of burned yellow pillows cigarette flavored
Women so plump and pregnant that they might burst
In cherry Christmas party dresses with lace
Hero’s hold their hair through the best and the worst
In colors to complement another rosy face
In a goose down duvet, in the shopping mall
If dreams are less than a hundred in bread
When we could all do better to get our mouths fed
Here we are as in olden days:
Once followed, once led.
Combine Harvester3:30 PM
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1
I found these works stimulating yet provocative.Your semantics filled my ears with a rich tapistry of liguistical bliss as I read them. Brother-Zachary.
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