No flinching zone
miracles on the corners, done in with too much expectation and sun.
count them on your disappearing fingers.
no flinching zone just declared amnesty on all pain.
take a walk with the love in your wounded hideaway.
miracles bleeding on the corners, they got wrapped too tight.
let them loose, let them roll around in the catnip which
does eclectic things to your skin.
the young girls of anytime will now skateboard across the land mines.
make this a readable account of humans learning how to trust in one
another.
make this count and stand back with a vengeance.
miracles dissolve on the corners, yet they enter your dreams and
i will count those shorn sheep as they jump over the rails.
i will not flinch before my time.
the hole in the head of the earth is full of debris and gratitude.
miracles laughing on every corner, laughing in new
languages that have not been tamed.
---Scott Wannberg
(listening to the new John Prine CD.) |
