1.

The old man taught me a song to sing.

We danced awhile—he and I.

We danced through the concrete ballrooms

and under the wooden stairs  

on top of the sunrise 

along quiet streets.    

With trembling thighs

and a naked frame

I put my finger

beneath his tongue.

"Tell me sir! Tell me sir! 

Where are the children

with broken teeth?  

Or the beautiful women

with tangled hair?

Only you know!

You who have stolen our dreams,

mistaken our fears,

misplaced our bodies.

Only you know."

2

I found all the voices lying in the snow

with a vase I stole from the masters house.

She was the burden my father knew!

I knelt down quietly

and with rubber hands I picked them up.

The sounds rolled around awhile;

smiling faces buried in the crease of my palm—

whimpering,

laughing.

I blew against their foreheads—

my breath tasted of honey and salt.

I could smell the tongues of all the young souls

swell with compassion.

I could taste their sweat against my lips.

With my crooked rod and a plastic staff

I fed them berries I found beneath the leaves.

We all held hands around the willow tree that night. 

Everyone had a story to learn.

I cried myself to sleep.

3. 

Love scratches our lovers. 

Midnight will cradle the weeping children.

O the release to hear that soft rip in the dark.

Turn all the shells over and see what's hidden beneath. 

Muted reds—

awkwardly shaped hues 

rarely misperceived—

wee little ones—always unshaken

in the land of living.

It's NEVER greyeyeyeyeyeyeyey

Its always wonderfully wonderfully grey.

I see the sunrise.

She's crawling across the river bed

where all the beautiful souls

are filling their jugs full of fear.

Loud, loud, laughter

crooked fingers and moaning lips—

licking the salt from the air—

I was with them then—

me and all the other wanders;

our brows heavy and stomachs tight;

laces untied and fists clenched.

Singing aloud! 

"O the glory we fought to win our hearts

are stained with sin again. . . .

We rode too long for the days of old

and the night has won our hearts of gold."

Sloppy tears staining the earth broken thoughts 

holding tightly to the past. 

Here now is the sound of all the brass horns

calling the wretched ranks to attention.

"WE FIGHT TILL WE DIE

AND DIE TILL WE FIGHT

WE  HIDE THE ROSE

IN THE WOMB OF NIGHT

AND IF OUR HEADS

ARE BENT TOO LOW

WE ASK THE SON

TO DWELL BELOW."

4. 

New life is born in the belly of a whale—

Here is to all the pretty faces with missing toes. 

The ugly orphans with shattered jaws

and all the purple cans

strung from the bottom of the sea.

All the wheels dancing before streetlight,

looking over our shoulders

for the green birds with swollen wings.

Tiny feet in tiny cities,

sunsets made of moths—

the doorways dipped in jelly, 

and spring's not far behind

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