At this moment
all the beauty of the world
rides tumbling in her fiery hair
a world lush with tigers and flowers
green rains and simple ease
Laughing fire cool jade wind the curve
of her back a peninsula of desire
In that hour
she'll taste of apples and wine
on the good soft grass
and I'll fashion a horizon for us both
out of the truth in my blood
From the canyon of the heart this dream returns as an echo
late 83'/ early 85'
I hear trumpets on the islands
I see apple orchards at night
My ancient shoes kneel down by the swans
The summer sky is a shy black girl
Singing rhymes over the spinning flowers
As Christmas trees of sheer adrenalin
Arrive on the noisy blue carts of Eros
I am the prince of every snowflake
that falls on this dear head
I am the caretaker of every tear
that falls from these tender eyes
And I am the scribe of every bright word
that falls from these lips
be it happy, angry, or idle.
But O my dearest
the light of your wonderous freedom
it blinds me.
Be kind to these sightless eyes.