#conducting
I’d never mark my stamp on you
even if I thought I could
and with lessons drawn
from father’s “tool and die, ”
I know I’ll never try.
That stamping press Dad used
left only negative impressions,
crushed in carbide steel,
to mark the owner’s brand.
No, I’ll have none of that
I need your free undented souls
To sing both “I” and “we”
in mystic synchronicity:
drawing life from the speckled pages.
But like my father at his lathe,
I’ll ply my studied craft
and bid you do the same with yours
so that you and I
can find our truths among the spots
and, with mysterious synchronicity,
breathe radiant, illimitable life
into the freckled, speckled pages.
June, 2009
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Met you the day I thought I'd die
You cured my god **** January blues
After losing all I had to lose
I called you knowing loneliness poison
Intending to one night stand
You up
Late night mellow rock and
Balcony smokes in ice age Michigan
Bodies moving like snowflakes
Tears melting like liberated ice
My old world fading like a faraway pebble's wakes
My love becoming so loud I couldn't hear a word again
In silence I heard violins
An invisible orchestra playing to
The life I thought I was conducting
Too late did I learn
I was merely another violin
There for you to play
And without you pulling at my heartstrings
I would fall out of tune
And into disrepair
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC