I live in my horse's saddle: a beast, piteous.
Maidens sing forlorn as we pass.
The children do not see the chopper
at the roundabout.
Soon, their shorn locks will match the minstrel's sins of old.
Castles burn in the day: robbers ride boats on land.
Mascots fade against tapestries, hung out.

It's wonderful to sing out, revolt in time.
The sleepers don't hear the bees, save the woodsman.
Trees whisper secrets of the woods upon the wind.
Rows and rows of spears and woven flocks, poor things.
Descendants of cold metal.
They will come.
Too soon.

Bluebells and daisies flattened in an hour, green to brown.
Leather worn and sweat of ten rides polish the future.
Cut to make ribbons of blue for lasses unborn, the sky.
Bring to rise
new rivers of strange color, coppery seeping to earth.

I admire how you let your feet dangle in the air.
On front of the entire world, a burning mess.
You show us, teach us.
Inspiration.

Saplings trick the sky when they outgrow the elder.
Slow and sly, then sudden spurt.

I really feel like making love, but I can't.
Not quite now.
I will sing, when I'm through hiding.

Then, some sparks can touch me too.
I'll fall to your lavender smile
and feel as planted as show yourself to be.

for N.

As I lay here and think,
I realize it is not you that I want so badly,
It is the feeling I think you might give me,
That I truly crave.

It is that ecstatic feeling
That I can only ever imagine.
The one that lovers get when they meet,
after being separated for a long period of time.

The feeling of passion,
That I have only ever dreamt about.
The one that burns deep inside,
as lovers lay with each other.

To say I love you would be crazy,
But I am in love with this insane idea,
That you might just be the one,
Who could give me the feelings I crave.