River of paper flows beneath my every word,
where would my thoughts be but for this substrate?

variation on psalm 137, By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat
hands drumming on ribs, feet, the ground,
the mouths of pots and guns beckon,
the wind, the clouds, are the sight of sound
to the deaf, the foreign, the prisoner.
This bridge is the harp hung across
the tears of our sorrow. Each life

speak simply when you speak of love
speak not of stars, mountaintops, stormy
seas, serene tropical isles

Everyone wants to fall in love with me.
I know it.
The guy in the lineup
who waved the cucumber at me
and said, I could hit you with this
was really saying he loves me.

based on psalm 83 ”Keep not thou silence, O God” KJV
if you don’t want to talk it’s not all right by me
I would really appreciate a moment of your time
as I am listening to more hatred, than those who
hate you can raise, lousy lizard heads, how they despise you

the time of flowers has begun
and all the sorrows of this world
disappear in their presence