I’m not in step with the world
I’d like to go
I don’t see very well
and the metaphor haunts me too

But Life is sacred
you can’t make it
you can’t take it away
Stay all the way;
smile each day

You have no use for me
and I don’t get you past literalness
My slur interrupts meaning
and I don’t understand
your language either

But Life is sacred
you can’t make it
you can’t take it away
Stay all the way;
smile each day

I’m tired of the ways
there’s nothing I can build anymore
The doors are closed
and there’s a new image here everyday -
every one unfamiliar, and vague

But Life is sacred
you can’t make it
you can’t take it away
Stay all the way;
smile each day

You give me words
and I eat leftovers
My mind soars above
and you hang on to my tissues
I’d like to go
I have to go
This room reminds me of the womb
As was coming so seems my going;
I’ll go

*But Life is sacred
you can’t make it
you can’t take it away
Stay all the way;
smile each day

1
Ginhoko is a slob
he ***** up to the boss
and he squeals on his mates
May his family starve and
may his wife find him always flaccid

2
You loser! You loser! You loser!

3
the woman who walks past our store
everyday when I have my tea
she is lovely and a fairy -
O will she not look at me?

4
The boss is a donkey
He eats pig ****
and his wife drugs his food
and his wife fornicates with the servant
while her husband lies drugged,
and everyday she winks at me

5
May the world go jump
in the ditch!
May I alone survive and enjoy the earth!

6
What do you eat? You smell of the backstreets
of the red light district
where the men go to ease themselves

7
who scribble here
is nincompoop

like us,
take comfort in the soft golden September.
The season for falling asleep,
as the shadows fuzz their way towards the center
from the edges of dawn and dusk.

For those with thin skin blanketing their veins
who feel the wind shift on the retreating edge of the storm.
As the north creeps in like a sigh,
take comfort in the growing silences of

paper lantern stars; watch them rise flickering
towards the fat orange moon bloom in autumnal constellations.
Fade pinpricks in ink as the leaves melt into the crow-cries
the smell of the coming night like smoke with no fire.

You know of it, it makes you lonely
for blankets and the flushed warmth of another.

Take comfort as the wind howls through the night hours
to remind you that no one is ever all alone.
Pull on your thickest wool sweater like a winter undercoat;
like armor for the coming night.

For those with light eyes, thin skin, sore heart
which slows its beat keeping time with the shortened day,

take comfort, and let it sing you to sleep.

In September, we missed the bus
And walked for miles
In the Cornish rain.

We laughed as it licked every
Square on our bodies
And squelched into our shoes

Turning our socks to flannels.

The asphalt had become beautiful
- it had drunk the sky
And rehearsed the whispers
Of the sea.

We were the only humans in Cornwall
As the sun went down
And you put on your head torch

We climbed through mirrors
Of trees and bends.

When we got back to the cottage
We did a funny dance
To peel free of our clothes.
Then we toasted our bodies
And watched television.

She's stark raving mad
they tell me. But I think
of a wild-eyed dreamer,
hands to the heavens,
splayed,
longing with long fingers
to entice those lights
into moonlight sonatas that would make
Beethoven proud.

And I decide it might not be so bad
to be star-craving mad.

Have you ever known me to hold my silence?




I call into the light night.
               I beg for the sky to pull down its shades.

   Pain like this shouldn't be painted on the light purple sky.

Anger like this shouldn't fall so gracefully, so pure, so...
                                                                                          


                                      clean.






I try again. This time
                    Closing my eyes.
                              

                                I paint my sky dark,
                        forgetting the holes to heaven.
I let my anger fall heavy mixing with all the mistakes
                               I've brushed off like dust.





But when I open my eyes
nothing
has changed.




And as the soft wind
wanders around me without a care.

I swear I hear it tell me

                                                                                "some things never will."