mercredi, février 02, 2005

i try to put her dreams down but they are crying in my sleep

the head turns and
the heart wanders

past cypress knees and
arms of lead
(wish you were in my pretty stead)
under water which never rises

this dislocated guilt!
this phantom pain!
this loss of nothing ever had

(you can lead a horse but
only i know what what was called for)

and this is how my garden grows,