Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Dark Step

The trees look pretty at
intermission like your eyes
dark sparkling lover of my
heart and your lips blare like
pink kazoos like no other
sound around us and who cares
if no one remembers our names
or faces? I remember; built
sculptures in word by word for
you on red carpets of the mind
mad world spinning fairy tale--
look up with me--

that music
in heaven are
angels crying