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

 

 

back to titles