Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Bliss

You know the creatures living there,
They go diving in emerald pools,
 . . . jumping rocks, scaling trees.

A rocky brow overlooks mists,
 . . . a waterfall, where swimming's coolest.

Dirt is what places a man's birth.
The mud on his boots.
You know that sand?
 . . . The mud?

The thought comes . . . a question
 . . . from the audience . . .
 . . . bits of sand become part of us.
We are this Earth . . .

Help me shoulder this thing . . 
 . . . it's heavy
That lizard I carry
 . . . wriggles free . . .
 . . . experiences bliss,
 . . . then falls back,
a bird.


Pablo Picasso, Vollard Suite

Wolf


Wolf is howlin' through the night,
Water's boiling, outta sight.
Dylan's tickin' keeping time,
Blondie's dialin', number's mine.

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