I I too long for a bright future Where our old wounds might melt into Soft warm light. Though I know so few With the gentle-fierce faith of your Heart and hand. So, despite the cut, Would the gloom pass faster when he Fell unripe, unred, though heavy With sweetness almost tasted but Lost? Or as he drifted, to see Your grey friend blindly gobble down Rotten fruit from a rotten clown, Praise a pain that keeps him unfree, With no thought or will for escape? His garden, once green, now full Of wild slugs and brown waste. So pull The bandage off, put on your cape And fly through the storm. Say then, please, Who held on to their brave ideal Or with dull eyes were ground to meal? I wait but hear only the breeze. II We pose and hope those we don’t know Will learn and sing our name. One day Hordes of them may happily pay For our fancy cookies. Let’s go Another way. Past this small verse The world burns, of course, and the greed For new cargo, which never freed Anyone, lingers like a curse We won’t shake. So, would it be best To play the bee and drone away The painful with the pleasant day, And wait for some sweet someday rest? III A fly tries its luck on the wide Patio door and buzzing does It again. Unconcerned with was It feels a freedom just outside Of reach and reaches. When our friend Hits the glass, open up and let It pass outside. Why get upset That the trip together must end? Maybe I’m reaching too far now, Smudging with soiled fingers what I Know little about, but this fly, Unstoppable, teaches me how To move about the house and sing A little song; maybe enough To justify this cloudy fluff And shine a somewhat tarnished thing.
Tag: fly
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Sonnet
with false starts buzzing around my head what do I do do I recall one fly I cut in half with a glass while trying to trap and free it—then sculpt some little line to be stomped bloodless by the sound of boots on the ceiling—so do I then try to persist with this misty I and words like persist—but to speak plainly there is no window in which to speak plainly about a small flower past my boots that I wish could fly into colors that open a window into a land where I could lie…
but now I’m cut in half and half of me
may persist and maybe that I will fly
other animals 