The Miracle of Maybe (April 2007)

my knife has sat here all along
I watched it as it performed
magic
simply
and I could have waited
but the fans related
as I was thrown in
a sea of strangers
sadly oblivious
but I caught on and on
and I really did see a peace
they laugh, you laugh
so training began right away
worked on until sleek
smooth as ice
and forgiven I sat silent
still waiting
reminded of killers
and sounds of childhood
until finally
I was wrong
I might have mattered

       

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.

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Station

I couldn’t stretch it
it began furtively
the weasel of a creature
stitching disaster with a golden flare
dancing brushstrokes in the air
stepping lightly
flooding slow
a prick to welcome
boring deep within
each layer, each flaking level
it could be cruel
but I’m sure this isn’t new
I know the tracks
and paint the country with pleasure
still be the train, upon them all
useless and crumbling
but ever so mighty
bending light with each day
crowding this heaven-sent boundary
to a cradle beneath
somehow immersed in everything
so carbon me
make me realistic
drawn and painted and sung
compose me your morals
stand with posture perfect
gripping ledges
haphazard leaping
and suddenly —
you see it too

so change it all, and harbour no chain
abandon weight, for I can help you fly

   

      

Finished: 8:28 a.m., Wednesday, December 5th, 2007.