White paint
On paper
You would think
It makes
No difference
But the paper
Is slightly off white
And has a grain
That casts tiny shadows
White paint
On paper
Is like an acceptance
that all that looks white
Is not white
at all
The curse
There is a sign
That says
He hates you still
So I take the blame
For everything
There is a sign
Above the street
-He never loved you
Not even
When you loved him
There is an omen
In the daylight
That creeps in to you
At night
There is his spirit
That works on another
From far away
Someone who is agreeable
to his heart
a mute assassin
a shadow of death
My brothers divorce
My brother, he was rich
He worked hard
(I suppose)
At a well-paid job
With a respectable wife
That taught him the rules
He rejected the poor
Those who despair
He protected his home
From being tainted
But I think
That deep inside him
His humble roots
Got entangled with hers
They strangled one another
They could not breath
This was the body of their marriage
And their hearts were not in it
With her hands bound
With her hands bound
Above her head
She sways in the wind
Like grass
The night came and took her away
Drops of her blood
Drip from the blades of grass
This is the old story
Of the farmer
Out at night
Blindly scything
In the darkness
Passionate for his harvest
He forgot the scarecrow
Standing there
Wife, he calls out
Wife, where are you?
She is like fabric
She is like fabric
She is like tapestries
The sowing needle sows into her
And leaves her a picture
She is like velvet
That you should not ruin
You touch her and you dream
And your dream is her embroidery
Wisdom
Do not go after fame and fortune
Follow your spirit and find wisdom
Have wisdom in your purse
When the last trumpet is blown in the sky
Money will not buy you redemption
In the court of God busy with the Word
The arrows that fly
Society is a cold wind
Blowing upon the warm water
You take to your wings and fly
Like an albatross jet
Not an angel of a bird
But like a plastic angel on top of a tree
Society is a cold wind
Blowing upon the warm flank
Of the deer falling from a fatal wound
Its body still hot with blood
The arrows that can fly in the cold wind
Are faster than any living thing
Trees
Trees
Why don’t you help me
Trees
Wake up! Wake up!
As you sleep
The predator follows
It lurks in the shadows
Of the wind-blown snow
Trees, so black, so dormant
Nothing but wood
No life in you
Nothing!
The Three Actors
First actor
He took off his mask
His head was a black hole
Instantly everything reacted
Screaming and shouting
Go away, black hole
Second actor
He took off his mask
His head was a nebula
Instantly the girls
Were compelled to dance
Third actor
He took of his head!
His mask was a supernova
His hands fumbled for his gloves
His mouth was the last thing seen!
What has happened to the three actors?
Weren’t they supposed to perform Hamlett?
Instead, the theatre exploded
And the audience ran for their lives
History is in his hands
History is in his hands
Repeating itself
I wonder who his master is?
Who burns rings in his soul?
We have walked across the Andes
A nation of survivors
Now we come to a shoreline
With a tsunami approaching
Like a man who walks
into a plate-glass shop window
He does not even know
the reason for it even being there
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