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the lion and the ocean |
the lion howled like the pain of the world was a fire in his throat we ate pasta and watched he cried "my love, my sister, my brother, my home, the moon is something like a spotlight the cage is something like a nail i want to prowl in the waning glow of night when the flies are quiet and the grass is high and my mother is sleeping by the tree i dreamt my first dream" i think of things i do not understand, but know. haiti iran south central la moscow mexico nuclear coal cancer chains choking cattle in cincinnatti cocaine, christ, crickets the moon is not something for us to conquer. the ocean silently agrees and tells me things like "my flowers are dying and my seeds are gone. the spanish gold in the bottom of my soul couldn't buy my blue back." we finished our pasta and walked away from the sad sad lion in beograd |