Wednesday, December 26, 2012


Tell me the story
Of my people, your ancestors
Speak their truths
And let me run my hands over their smooth stones
Tell me talk and teach
Worrying wanted wanton souls
Weary, they are

Sing me a song, tell me your story
Whisper it
Dainty and droll
Wing me a wonder and whisk me away
Take it, take my wanton soul
Sacrifice on your altar
Let the smoke rise, a faint gift for the missing prayers
Wing me wantonly, wind my soul
Ratchet me up in a tree
Sing me a song of yearning

Wearily, wretchedly, lurching along this path
An ogre, an eyeball, a humped back.
Five hairs sprouting on the roof of her head
Six rolls wiggling, neck to knee indeed
Six spoons spitting sugar and candy and weed
Six strings singing
Lost in the sound the light from above
Six maids a milking, as they always were
A particular sound

Brief the potter, prepare the store
Brief the messenger, tell her more
Set siege to the city
From the tombs down below
Sing the sweet city to sleep

Sing the sweet city

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