sleep ,siesta ,sweetness-
sibilance sings songlines
like lullabyes for sleepy children
we know rock world,scissor hands
but we are paper people
get wet and wonder why this falling apart?
Gentle as seduction
to wish to believe that all will be well
Bells toll the passing of cattle
Villages on Sundays/we wish to wander
wherever our feet may lead.Here is a road-
Thin streets to broad boulevards.All have signs-
DESTINATION!.FREE WILL!.CIRCUMSTANCE!
At midnight,it matters little who you meet
Crossroads are for choices made and unmade
The journey is a destination
All naming is temporary /transitory
like hiding street signs when the Nazis were invading
We can obscure with projected goodwill
the domestic tragedies that would leave us
crying still
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