It is passing right now
And I just let it go
I let it run out of me
I think, my only one
this it not the place for you
and you are not for me
There's a thunderstorm
This must be love, truly
I can see a bird
above me passing by
Barbed wire in its cavernous heart
and a straw in its beak
I rock myself
while it lands on an apple tree
in God's garden
it inhales cider
I would ride away
with you in the night
on a pinto mane of my dreams
A shaman's heart
is shaking under a kitchen knife
Mud and swamp
under my feet.
And since then
I see her everywhere
I am staring into yonder
My home is a stony hell
Fractured heaven
A liquid, distorted mirror
gleaming in the light of fireflies.
An indian's ghost is haunting me,
and its eyelids are rather rusty.
Over the mirrors
In the sky
An angel-winged snake-charmer
drops its flute.