Sometimes I perch you
       on my shoulder.

I ask you to read
        my newest poem

look inside my soul
        and tell me

        everything

There shall be white words
To praise Love's creed
Ruled out by courts of reason
And traded saint by saint
To merchants of salvation

There shall be black words
To mourn the season
Rising out of ailing credence
Turning healers into dealers
Under the tubes of  loaded laws

There shall be red words
To brand Love's defeat
With scars of history
while tenor of last lines
Chase an undying dream...