Not The Rockefellers

i remember  when the fences  that lined  my way  home tickled the toes  of  my senses a picket xylophone Rene ~ September 2011

The Snake Charmer, Henri Rousseau 1907 courtesy of Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales full moon on the shores of where the cat brought your tongue to lisp all gutters licorice with squirming, swearing sons of guns lead 'em down the asp hole charmin' little asp hole every town's got an asp hole a shiny little asp hole kick 'em in the asp hole 'til the deed is done Rene ~ September 2011

everything we held everything we knew to be always and iron shattered in minutes in pieces we sift numbly through artifacts, relics and still warm promises still waiting still not believing life cracks silently, without warning rivers run wild, divide and break banks stealing life savings we wade through eyes and condolences mysterious as undersea caverns there's a hole in our umbrella who will stop the rain? soaked to the bone yet we snap like dry twigs we hide like lost children from each other and ourselves we question the fairness of our God we try to feed the great wide hunger between each moment by holding onto hugs longer and saying I love you more quickly yet we still remain what we've become and we've strained our hearts and our necks in search of the sun slowly, silently life heals gracefully though in its own time faith, love and trust tend to the gaps new growth forms naturally, miraculously raising up

abandoned farm, Dublin, Ohio by Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales vagabond moon always rings you up when the tide rolls in let's meet over half baked Alaskan fantasies oh you haven't the heart to tell him Ohio's got you dug in deep rooted you now screen your calls let your gypsy soul go unrenewed and your past is a just lazy seaweed circle floating across the Sargasso Rene ~ September 2011