i try to put her dreams down but they are crying in my sleep

the head turns and
the heart wanders

past cypress knees and
arms of lead
(wish you were in my pretty stead)
under this water which never rises

this dislocated guilt!
this phantom pain!
this loss of nothing ever had

(you can lead a horse but
only i know what what was called for)

and this is how my garden grows,
enclosed.

outdamned

i have learned what it takes to build up a man
or to tear down a home with my lily white hands

lesson learned

why'd you lure a little birdie?
feathers stink when they burn.
plus she takes wings of fire-
you won't need that urn.

Gene Autry?

I've got spurs that jingle, jingle, jangle.
And they say I'm happy to be sangle.
But this isn't true.
I'd rather have food poison
And be stuck in the loo.

could you be?

could you be love?

could you forgive it?

could you reverse-engineer all that love

and then live it?

could you reset that gift

...and then give it?