When My House Begins to Fall |
When my house begins to fall,made of sticks and stones and weeds;when the faeries fly awaymy imagination bleeds.When the wind that blows the leavessweeps away the rest of me,the pain is all you'll see...
Posted by c a t o i r e on Fri, 15 Aug 2008 07:30:00 PST |
Eleven |
I see the jet plane passing through shapes in the cloudsScraping its wings on the roof of the worldAnd leaving chalked linesFaster we rode to the store near the leveeRebels, artists and wannabe rockst...
Posted by c a t o i r e on Tue, 27 Mar 2007 07:53:00 PST |
The Magic of Someday (When the Sky Falls Down) |
Floating in the air on a SundayPeaceful and freeImaginary pillars exalt meWhy should they fall?If Karma's sympathetic,I'm unapologetic for my fatalistic view of the starsThey know just where I standCo...
Posted by c a t o i r e on Mon, 18 Dec 2006 09:39:00 PST |
The Time of the Dying |
You could have cellophane wrapped 'round your heartand pictures of dust in a vase.You could have faith and the strength of ten men,and a willow you've nurtured to ageYou could have sutures and synthet...
Posted by c a t o i r e on Mon, 27 Nov 2006 09:02:00 PST |
