lonely willows shivering in
the holy ether of wind
baubles hang and chime like
honey filling ear
drums

a convulsion of dreams
atonement for the muzzled
fornicator of reality

where men hacksaw
their legends from the
fabric of truth
purger themselves from
pulpits of egocentric
alters

carnivores of praise and
self-adulation

i want the humble salt
of hope, the naked and nervous
courage of overt happiness
and its ambition

i need fertile gardens
growing the seeds of humanities
gentler hearts, loftier ideals

not these amoral molten mouths
spewing ashes for symbols,
selling peepshows to win loyal
martyrs to empty causes,
bleaker ends

dreams are for the willows
i'll shiver no more
chiming only of my vision
suckling the honey of my own
bees

now...
how to walk like thunder?
talk like light?
live like the rivers,
who've drank all the rain?