Red Queen's Puppet

The subtle pluck of harp
a tender touch of guitar string
I understand the playful movement
the gentle mock of philosophy
in the shape of your curvature
a façade of concern
we sit, here in long golden grass
this land is our home
danced upon by the blind demon
desire; a loaded name
touch; the endless temptress
and yet, in hand with the Red Queen
the stillness of motion
nothing is overlooked
passion is a wicked fool
the doctorate obtainable in the fall
here, I finally awaken
new born and terribly old
a monkey’s breathe
ripe and rank in my nostril
you dance to the plucked
you hope for the lot
you never feel a gram
silently I fade in the long golden grass
mistaken for the fool
rightfully picked as the monkey
overlooked for the doctorate
the only one to pluck the harp
tender enough for the guitar string
oh, the beastliness of exploration
the terror in hope!
Such is the world of the dreamer
and desire of the undesired
richer for the abstinence
cleaner for the hurt
here, where I now sit alone
this land was our home.

8/7/09