Don't Go Outside Your House To See Flowers. My Friend, Don't Bother With That Excursion. Inside Your Body There Are Flowers. One Flower Has A Thousand Petals. That Will Do For A Place To Sit. Sitting There You Will Have A Glimpse Of Beauty Inside The Body And Out Of It, Before Gardens And After Gardens.
The Rain Is Coming. Little Sister, The Night Broke. The Thunder Cracked My Brain Finally. The Rain Is Coming, I Promise You. I Didn’t Mean To But Your Tears Will Bring Life Back. Purple Flowers Grow, The Colour Blood Looks In The Veins. They’ll Sprout Out Of My Chest. I Promise You They’ll Crack The Ground, Grow Over The Freeways, Down The Slopes To The Sea. I’ll Be In Their Faces. I’ll Be In The Waves, Coming Down From The Sky. I’ll Be Inside The One Who Holds You. And Then I Won’t Be.
The Circus Tent Was Flowing Pale In The Rain Like A Fleshy Flower Lit From Within. It Seemed To Bloom In The Downpour. Drops Of Rain Caught On Rafe's Eyelashes, Blinding Him As The Circus Light Struck Them. He Groped For The Flap, That Slit In The Fabric That Would Reveal Her To Him. She Was On The Rope Again, Her Skirt Flashing With Tiny Mirrors, Hair Braided With Petals. He Looked Up At Her, Dizzy With It, Seeing Her Face Framed In The Parasol. There Were Bluish Shadows Around Her Eyes.
She Wished She Had A Little Yellow House Of Her Own, With A Flower Box Full Of Real Flowers And Herbs – Pansies And Rosemary – And A Sweet Lover Who Would Swing Dance With Her In The Evenings And Cook Pasta And Read Poetry Aloud.
I Want Him To See The Flowers In My Eyes And Hear The Songs In My Hands.
I Dreamed You Were Standing In This Dark Place And You Touched These Dead Flowers And They Lit Up Like They Were Electric Or Something. Electric Lilies. Lighting Up The Valley.
She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer Watching The Flowers Grow. She Was A Warrior Now. Warriors Need Something To Fight For Though, Beside Their Lives, Because Otherwise Their Lives Will Not Be Worth It.
Flowers Are Reincarnation. They Come Out Of The Earth Of Our Ashes. Nothing Else Looks So Soul-like.
You Were Just A Boy On A Bed In A Room, Like A Kaleidoscope Is A Tube Full Of Bits Of Broken Glass. But The Way I Saw You Was Pieces Refracting The Light, Shifting Into An Infinite Universe Of Flowers And Rainbows And Insects And Planets, Magical Dividing Cells, Pictures No One Else Knew.
O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.
