Did you die?
Shimmer about rain,
about the grand river.
Dress every idea with sugar,
draw delusions with color.
They have shame.
Love me in the original,
lets create something
She only makes you kiss,
Oh that freedom we gave.
A rainbow for you, upon glass.
Learn me soft sister, talk memories
Air feels empty, cuts him on the rock.
How will my Muse make thought like days . . .
Oh how the Milky Mother works,
She chants from water . . .
finds dance, can suffer.
Peace at dusk Brother,
. . . Take this perfume home!
February 3, 2007, with Leslie Garrison, 80, 81, . . 1 Part I, Part II
The Muse Poems:
