Tell Me a Story

because reading declines
because pages are lost
because people talk
(stories remain simple
loss love honor truth
the enemy always evil
inside outside
the enemy always evil
hearts are campfire sparks
minds flow towards stars
the moon’s lost in clouds
devoured by darker wolves  
the circle pulls tighter
a drum taps song into dance 
its skin tight like consonants
chromosomes blaze Van Gogh’s eye
as stickmen chant innate rhymes
a line forms like dust on air)
touch hands and speak


(circa 1990-1994, from If This is a Comedy, They Why Aren’t We Laughing)

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