Like a million parachutes
The snow is coming down
I lock up
Questions flew
And words were hurled into the air
And when the
This is my 45th depressing tune
They're looking for money
As they
Deep inside the darkest night
Is drinking in the light
From pinholes
It's every day
I'm in this place
I feel this
I'm like Thomas
Doubting fingers
Running the scars
Your wrists and side
Touching
I am a fruit that you squeeze
hoping the nectar is
In the middle of my mourning
Sits joy like ahappy child
In
You and the moon are a beautiful sight to me.
The
Standing in the middle of a forest
Basking in the glorious
Amber liquid wetting winecups to the stem
Spilling drops to glisten
I've wrapped myself up
In a universe again
And let the darkness
So I'm waiting by a phone for the blessed ring
Like
Kiss me
Out of the bearded barley
Nightly
Beside the green, green grass
Swing,
The lines of my earth, so brittle, unfertile, and ready
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