you discover new corners not only found in the hallways of
but the corners of yourself.
its raining tonight
and the ceiling is leaking.
you gather brass pots
all size pots!
you line them up
the cracks in the loggia
that are spewing out
the secrets of a mother (nature)
when she wants to weep...my god she will weep.
dinner lacks substance
and your sippingg that same old broth
your garden is weedy
and your doorknobs are collecting dust.
I compare all this to the condition of
when it shifts
when it decides to rest.
wherever you are planted
there you must bloom.
the ivy is climbing up the side
of this broken down house
I was idle
it was busy
covering a multitude of sins
and discolored bricks.
the finale of your solar energy parade-is
sneaking up as a christmas holiday
creeping as ivy.
just around the corner you find us
sitting indian style
sippin' tea from those brass pots
while you ask me why the world map
looks so flat!