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we feel that red is passe so we reach in to our cache what we found inside we met with deride we don't like red any way |
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Notes The End of ElephantsDeath is the punctuation at the end of the sentence of life. But these words are a just a reflection of the song of peace and strife. Existence is a mirror wide of all that is: We are images of what we were, the wisps of near and far: A matzah ball A letter signed A cheek once pinched A hug goodbye Through this lens we think we see the past of all the things. Through this lens we barely gaze a future plan that sings: A swim A pool A game A pose A sigh Tomorrow’s left untrodden, the sky is bright and clear but in shadows and reflections you live, and guide and hear. -
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Noteswe are walking home in the snow.somewhere nearby, logs burn.the piney scent cuts through the night’s biting cold.once inside, sweaters and hands will restore us.i’ll make us tea:a peppermint decongestant.outside, your hand takes mine.we are almost there.your sturdy footsteps march along my small imprints in the snow—a map of where we’ve been, of the road we’ve traveled.side by side, we walk.inside, incense waits for flame.inside, music waits for dancers.inside, we will curl together like sleeping cats, sleepy and warm with dreams.through the winter air, we walk.we walk, for we will soon be home.
(Source: kickstarter.com)
