He was a German soldier fighting in the war
Then as a P.O.W. he could fight no more
In an English garden
He worked and spent his days
Planting bulbs, trimming hedges
Learning English ways

Then to his homeland he went back
But in mischief didn't lack
For in the Spring the daffs he sowed
Spelled out Heil ******!
All in pretty rows

breathe when steps up the climb redden.
see deep true endlessness forming waves.  
many abjurations will cloud alone,
to never green again.
taste dust sometimes,
enjoy sneezing--
cry.
play the moon;
know selfish worlds darkly,
grow flying genders into acts
sensing beneath ground live stars resting:
freely read to recall ancient ways to poem...
hidden wisdom gone stale speaks past
as poetic forests fall wilting.

'                          reflected flight:
heron's wings curve, touch
                           in autumn's kiss










'

Leave your slippers at the counter
said the watchman at the gate
an empty sack I put them in
entered temple on bare feet.

The walls were carved in fine granite
idols beamed in marbled shine
incense filled the ethereal light
breathing the air was purely divine.

After about a charmingly spelled hour
in lithe spirit I came out of temple door
presented the token at the shoes counter
poured the sack's content on the floor.

A strange pair mockingly looked back
not mine I shouted at the top of my voice
rows of sacks stared back from the rack
home barefoot wasn't a prospect to rejoice.

Obviously a wrong token was issued to me
the slippers therein belonged to someone else
and there I was arguing awkwardly
cursing high pitch over temple bells.

It took five minute's terror to find them out
so my feet could kiss the familiar smell
though not much something to write home about
those were the moments paradise felt hell.

When you reach a crossroads
Don't know where to go
Weighing all the choices
Decisions coming slow

Working out the numbers
Asking friends what they would do
But numbers are just numbners
And your friends aren't you

There's a little voice inside
Hear what it has to say
Listen to it carefully
Instinct knows the way

Darling, I'm drunk again.
No surprise here.
And I can read those words again.
I can't believe how much of myself
I told you about.
And how I probably know
A good amount of lies
About you too.

But that doesn't change anything.
The queen hibernates, darling.
But she does die.
I didn't go anywhere.