You
You
You come down from the sun
dancing
as I sit in the cellar
with my broken harp
the colours in your hands
are warming
where dead rainbows were sharp
and shovels for my tomb
You waltz into my eyes
with laughing
as I count the matchsticks
I have dropped like tears
the lovesong in your voice
is talking
where darkness froze my ears
to emaciated skies
a bit wet
a bit wet
Roll ’em said the Almighty Director
and by Behan by Falstaff
by Jesus and by Monroe
the bloody waters had their bastard
birth
in the gurgling of a cracked-up
magnified bouncing Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
of a drowning earth
and by Sir Larry
cooling it in my painted on-stage
perilous raft
i was there
and i said
a bit wet, all this, isn’t it?
_______
Greek Statues for Ever
Greek Statues for Ever
I have to tell myself
or I have to be told
that people die
and do not stand
greek statues for ever.
I feel this most of all
when I am standing still myself
like this
now.
Yet I love to stand on ceremony
it is part of my deepest learning
and when I am stoney-faced
and you believe me solid
I am pleased.
I love to stand on you
but you love to stand on me
to be sure of your weight
and I hate you for it
for reminding my soft bones
that they bend
for wounding me into involvement
and for ending my cold
and catatonic wait
I love you.
______