I wish my hand could replace your’s in mine
I wish that it was I that made you blush
And if I could wish a wish more pure, more true
I wish it was I who lit that spark that dances in your eye
But your eyes always seem to seek the floor
Or the ceiling and then the wall
Where my heart lies waiting for you—
I wish it was I who was mending you… mending me
Red and blue, red and blue?
Who shot the elephant in the room
A braying ass
Holds no more class
Than a motley crew
Red and blue, red and blue
We tired and shrewd
This purple bruise
Blocks only one eye
A blackened sky
For you, red and blue
Red and blue, red and blue
Who shot the elephant in the room?
Red and blue and yellow, too
If primaries brew
A coward stew
Red and blue, red and blue
Who shot the elephant in the room?
Fair Apollo, may I borrow your golden lyre
So I might strum a heavenly chord full of fire
Else, let me pluck a laurel from your grove
Towards greatness, ever I strove
But alas my fingers are not nimble and quick
My wire sung words sting and stick
O Apollo were I as fair as the tree
Perhaps with second sight I could see
Fair Apollo lend me a voice as sweet and rich
A harpy in church, I rasp and –bitch
I’ll drown in myself if I not throw it out soon
I’m hopelessly blocked
And Half cocked at noon
Fair Apollo, may I borrow your golden lyre
So I might strum a heavenly chord full of fire
Else, take me under your bright wing
With your guidance, let this Philomel sing
A misty sire of dual nature combined
To mend the body and renew the mind
From your strength springs the winged Pegasus [Melanippe]
From your mind sailed the golden sailors thus
O in all our endeavors, kind mentor do assist
Your knowledge married into our marrow
A star struck with poisoned arrow
O Gentle Titan of wisdom and balms
Guide with hoofed heart our hands to the healing of harms
Upon this knee
I rest my soul
for in seeking your’s
I will arise, crowned
By your Majesty
within these flickering tent cities
in another country
we seek refuge
yet we still seek the road back
lustful for that familiar ground
a trace of sadness lingers there
where we dream of the dark moon
and seek the night’s counsel
upon the winds of peace will
day will come again
In a meadow fair lived the mouse Ben,
Who fell in love with the squirrel Jen.
He wanted to marry but had not a dime,
“What could I give her that’s shiny and mine?”
He thought and he thought and then he knew,
What he could give that was neither old nor new,
“I know! How about a Star
For what burns brighter than love lit from afar?”
So he called to the moon and asked for her advice,
She told him, “I’ll give you a star but there is a price.”
Up the ladder he climbed with shovel and grin,
He began to loose a star from its pin.
Jen watched from below, wringing her hands,
For she knew sometimes the stars had other plans.
And when he fell from heaven, the Moon took pity.
“He would give you the brightest star in my city.”
And then from a mouse he was quickly turned
She searched high and low but when she learned,
Poor Jen cried in relief, then sighed,
She pleaded with the goddess, who replied
“I’ll give him back, if only I knew,
which of my constellations I made him into…”
She extended her hand as a friend,
“You must find him yourself, and only then,
Fear not, don’t despair, not all is lost,
But everything changes, it comes with a cost.”
Jen searched high and low, pry and pull
But some stars were too hot ,others too cool
Finally she found him! Shaped like a rose
When she touched his hand they both froze
Falling from the heavens, both intertwined
They really were in a pickle, a real bind
Suddenly they gasped, feeling lighter
They were coasting on wing flaps and fur
Laughing with joy, they glided higher, they flew!
For a new journey, they were forged anew
To be the best
little brother
or sister, if that’s you
Simple be the favorite of mother
there’ll be no wrong you do
Your sister you will bother
by tieing together her shoes
Your brother will discover
his soldiers needing glue
You’ll track in mud every other
hour, and blame it on old Blue
Blame your sibling
If you ever get caught
And when they slice, like a canary you sing
Though like dogs and cats you fought
You’ll be pouting and whining
Til they finally give in
While your smile is shining
then you win over your father
And it all begins again
kitchen
a food garden
blossoming for your stomach
our soul resides here
cookhouse
———
Surly President Grimsson
Thought he’d bet against Iceland and won!
His citizens heard hope he liked his eggs well beaten (against the windows)
Perhaps he’ll think twice before cheatin’
A Study in Equinoxes 