untitled

there's a shadow in the door-frame

with a hunger for the highway

the poison from the bee sting

the mirrors on the ceiling

the thunder and the lightning
the hibernating heart sings out
and i shake the hand of the seamstress
pinning up the clouds like patches
a little bit blue around the edges
hanging all the quilts from the ceilings
another room, another day, another season
another feeling
another reason to call me a liar
standing in the park beside the fire
stepping over lines that i had drawn there

there's a quiet conversation
a discarded invitation
a statue on the fountain
a molehill on the mountain
a river through the kitchen
we're swimming in basement now
and i met the ghost in the mirror
gave me quite a fright but i came nearer
told me all his secrets in a whisper
and i had my palm read by the psychic weather reporter 

said he was a wicked fortune-teller

gazing at the glowing teleprompter