The Hole in My Hand
By kyew
I'm seeing you through this hole in my hand A red-rimmed vision of green mountains, white rivers, and eastern mysteries A panoramic view of lost and foreign faces marching through your life plundering- screaming your name to a deaf audience of blank personalities Red-orange words stream from the storm-tossed harbor of your blue face And I recoil- I retract my claws Where might I find that lazy comfort of afternoon showers two of our mother's children taking and making love-life one day at a time? I have given up the measurements of dollars and minutes for just this- memories These will stand with me anywhen I want And forever... The hole in my hand is where all the words come out. I once heard a song... something about all of daddy's money going into the hole in his arm. It made me think of this and off I went Written March 31st, 2002 © on Mar 31 2002 01:43 AM PST, R. T. Howard other
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"I'm seeing you..."