i try poemsong. i wanted my voice higher, so i faked it with the machine.
my one true love is dead and gone, she died when i was seventeen
my one true love is dead and gone, she died beside a stream
my one true love is dead and gone, could you know what that means?
my one true […]
i.
she, hand in hand, walks–
her fingers swallowed by His palm
etched rough with living.
the endless climbing stairway turns
blood to snow to blood to snow to
shifting flow as footsteps slow and
down
down(down)
they go.
nineteen steps
with that flaking ferrous slab
as high as heaven high as falcon wing
high as stars tangled in black […]
“love is not impatient,”
she said,
“not gripping, nor envious, nor bitter;
love needs no reflection to cast its light.”
as the dogwood blossoms fell.
“love is generous beyond measure,”
he replied,
“and like a river finds the truest channel.”
and in the bright blue sky the swollen moon smiled down.
“my love runs deep,”
she said,
“with […]
there is a whisper hush that
slips between the bars and
unbinds the nestles that creep within the cage of
calcium twisted heart-mongers i
don’t think there is a
new way to say but
what i want to say is
that this flower has flowered so
bright and i
can hardly speak so joyousfilled is
all that whelms and over
[…]
the ripples as they reach
the edge are gentle and do not show,
except in gentle passing,
any sign of that first pebble strike
upon the surface of the lake.
but it is in that softest rise
and whisper-hushing lap,
that love reveals its truer face.
other.people.speak