You don’t care what anyone thinks
Your word are spare. Stinging in the most graceful style
Has your time with the flower been
absent of petals to operate?
What’s the difference if the flowers surge towards
where their conscience leads – by train to homeland or
steamboat that passes Memphis.
The Crystal Shrine Grotto is isolated like your reluctant heart.
Whoever conquers the steep
riverbank surrounding you is worthy.
9 out of 10 people surveyed would cross the moat to have a chance
to give you peace in a room cluttered with closets and broken hinges
Those with mechanical knowledge cannot ponder how to
repair the layers of the atrium so the acoustics tell the secrets
of messy sparkling true love
Until then there will be no toast over the fire
One lover renounces another
The angel of divorce passes through the garden gate
The requirement of the flame is to be faithful
in creation and work
One step to the left can lead you into a vat of yellow sunshine
that Timothy Leary’s qualification cannot fix
the words get stuck in your throat
Maybe you will see your muted calls in the light of the street lamp
Until there is deafening call
we are just strangers
moving further into our own grotto.
