Friday, April 7, 2017

the fool

copper taste of minstrel's ode
lingers there upon my tongue 
this mist of grayest day tinkers for no one 
fortune claims our solitary path 
scarlet bands
holding fast
not of land, no promise tendered 
held in place by something better 

scar tissue armors soft apple places
where hands lingered melting thru 
(collide burns electric-blue) 
while birds & demons speak in tongues 
skin to bone 
no laurel eases 
as hearts hideaway from comet's night 
knowing only smoke & light 

unchain the song 
repair the key 
our souls gray with ash'd debris 
jeans unfurled by ankles pool 
pick a card any card! 
I choose the fool 
you & i 
of
fire & sky 
not of land
no promise tendered 
held in place by something better