Saturday, June 14, 2008

i call your name

peter was a fisherman
on the sea of galilee
he sprinkled salt on what he caught
then sold them all to me

i took them to the shore and grilled them for the tourists there
we only had one loaf of bread but the tourists didn't care

oh margarita oh margarita
oh margarita i call your name


followed by "And having written ..."

Friday the Thirteenth

Friday the Thirteenth is over,
And I'm back in the woods once again.
The moon is still shining too bright overhead
So they see me approaching
But then

as i slip into the mist
and fade like memories of places they've never been
they watch the morning fog erase the path
to times that never were again

and sleep sleep sleep deepens in the quiet of a summer night
and even evening's darkness passes through us like a pain so slight
eternal rest grant us in tiny sparkling pieces
like heaven's midnight light