WILLOW WEEPS
SUCH TEARS LIKE BLEEDING
NEVER FINDING
WHAT SHE'S NEEDING
IVY CRAWLS
AROUND EACH CORNER
OF HER DREAMS
THAT DIED AND MOURN HER
SEPARATE TIMES
AND SEPARATE PLACES
DANCING GAZE
OF MYSTERY FACES
SHE CAN CALL
ON ALL HER SADNESS
REALIZE HER
LONELY MADNESS
DIMNESS IN
EACH EYE OF LOATHING
SEEN IN CHOICES
OF HER CLOTHING
CANNOT STAND
SOME MORE BAD NEWS
SHE HIDES HERSELF
IN HIGH HEELED SHOES
SHE'S THE ANGEL
COME TO FETCH YOU
BACK TO ALL
THE THINGS THAT GET YOU
AMPLIFIED
IN ALL DIRECTIONS
NOTHING SHORT
OF HER PERFECTIONS
COSMIC DREAMIES
ON THE CEILING
SHADOW SINGS
TO EMPTY FEELING
THOUGHTS OF LOVE
AND THOUGHTS OF HATE
HER FURNITURE
WILL LEVITATE
SPINS THE SPIDER
SPIN THE SILK
AND NEVER SPILLS
THE MOTHER'S MILK
OF WISDOM'S MORSEL
ALL SHE'S GIVING
YOU FOR FREE
TO KEEP ON LIVING
Robert Parker Jameson April 30, 2008
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