72nd St.
go in the garden
the gate is wide open
and we are all pardoned
from knowing what's been going on
crouch under tables
(we are blankets so throw up your arms!)
celebrate fables
you are welcome to show off your harm
in the midst of it all
we are falling, falling far
into the mist we are all feeling
we are feeling
the same way we felt
as children -- as miracles
angels of brilliance our paintings told stories
without awareness without feeling shy
we told lie after lie
of course we would lie
we'd lie with our feet
on the ceiling
on the ceiling
alice once golden now honored in bronze
where time is a clock so frozen so so many pairs
of kids climb the locks of her long rainwashed hair
who cares who cares who cares . . .
cause in the midst of it all
we are falling, falling far
in the mist we are already feeling
we are feeling