i sit at the plastic table alone
my friends are asking a question
to the supervisor that watches
she says no so they
skip towards me
singing in cracked voices
they get the entire room to sing
and in their fabulously split awful voices
they chant the words
that make me smile
my cheeks flushed pink
my smile wide
my laughter loud

we all have words
our hearts they speak
they whisper and scream
quiet themselves at times

my heart needs complexity
it needs simplicity
singing and whistling

this heart gasps for air
tasting profoundness

my heart desires

I want to write you a love song,
But I fear I could not find the beat,
nor the melody,
or the rhythm,
or even the rhyme.

I have the words,
Or words intended,
If I knew what to say,
That would be splendid.

But here I sit,
Lonesome and gray.
I've run out of wit,
Gone by another day.

And I'll try to piece this song together,
But I know I will fail.
Because there is no proper way to write love,
And if I could not say the words out loud,
Then should I look for them above?

When the truth is,
Words cannot describe
How perfect you are,
How you saved my life.

I know I can try,
And try I might,
But this song isn't coming,
At least not tonight.

there's singing at
the bottom of the lake!
i plunge down
with ringing ears

through algae membranes
wobbly chasms of sound
at the bottom is
a singing bubble
filled with hearts

i pop my face inside
the ringing stops

a thousand tiny faces turn and smile
they are the saddest pocket orchestra
they've sung away their lives
in fragile bodies shaking

now their glass viola hearts
are breaking

a thousand throats trill out
the final verse:
we are dying
please don't look away

I heard you singing
oh what a melody
awakening me
to cool clearness
to a fresh nearness
and peaceful resonance
with the preciousness
of Earth.

Contrast the days of anger
creeping and seeping into me
in such stupid little things
as an unscrewable top
a ***** fork dropped
a page that wouldn't turn
a candle I couldn't burn
talking barking heads
fomenting darkness
and dread.

Last night I saw your sympathy and sadness
as I poured out my madness
into the bowl of your heart
threads in me torn apart
dangling jangling my nerves
and knotting my stomach
but there you sat calmly listening
your eyes glistening
full of understanding and love

oh what grace
what a delicate lace
woven of affection  
through you
from above
to cure my affliction
to settle me
into my soul
into that sacred soil
where heaven is sprouting
right there below my doubting.

And so this morning
from the tendrils of my sleeping
I heard singing
the larks and love
God and Earth are bringing
and dancing behind my eyes

until they opened
and beheld
an ever burgeoning
ever startling
spring.

I'm still a rather little girl.
I mess things up a lot.
I tend to dream the day away
Chasing every pleasant thought.
But please remember, when you look at me then,
This is the oldest that I have ever been.

I see always, through fresh eyes,
A world of beauty, songs to be sung.
I follow the wind to far off places
Full of fantasies and hopeful love.
And please remember, when you look at me then,
This is the oldest that I have ever been.

Please don't force me to grow up.
I'll do it sometime, I am sure.
But then perhaps I'll lose the song,
Maybe not see the beauty anymore.
So please remember, then, when you look at me,
This is not the oldest I will ever be.

practice, more practice
then the next time you sing high
you'll hit the right note