Strike! the keys then smoothly skim along.
Strike! piano then sing your song.
Strike! down harder as the music flies.
Strike! once more as the music dies.

Murmur so softly to the moonbeams of blue
Whisper quiet to the desert night.
Rolling, caroling, dancing, whirling,
Murmur down to nothingness and silence long.

Triumphantly, the snow falls now,
Majestically were love's enow.
Chord full rich. Chord weird whines.
Empty fifths flow futilely along.

The rhythm picks up in a waltzing gate
And all the dancers can hardly wait.
The melody's thinking, "All is great!"
This orgy of music will satiate.

Mellow and sadly, slowly going,
Seeds of sorrow steadily sowing,
From painful pathos fire growing,
Mood and madness never slowing.

Strike! the keys both loud and strong.
Strike! piano then live your song.
Strike! down harder as the music flies
Strike! once more as the music dies.

Thanks for the Dance, Marilyn

I want to twist around
You with my ancient sound;
Surround you; drown you in
The blood of all my innocence --
Then take and make you
Do and see and be
A whirligig, a lightning rod,
A hot and heavy breathless passion
Fighting out of boundary for breath.

I want to sing through your vocal chords;
Chime with your bones;
Dive into the grains of rain inside your brain;
Rattle you, prattle you, chat you up
And take you down.

I want to take your hand;
Spin you, win you, twin you
Into streamers of Marilyn.
Dreaming, we will race skyward
Like sparks from a campfire,
Desire twisting us and it alike
Into a torrent red spike.

And you become the air I breathe,
The water sucked,
The life-force seethe,
The ground I tred.
I taste you, every word
You ever said.

As I dive, drive deep into you once again
Moving like an ocean,
Surging like the sea,
Suddenly turning,
Churning like a twister
Waterspout of the world,
Child of the universe.

Laughing, we cry at last,
Wildly whizzing light-fast
Through eons and ideas and licking
Every inch while kicking
Out, lashing, flashing every limb akimbo
As the music flows down around us.

We are wet, soaked with its rhythm --
And the sweet, sweet sweat of you.
Thanks for the dance, Marilyn.

Poems of Loss
A Poem about Juggling
Poetry Index

To contact the author: truthtable@aol.com

Last modified: Tues. Nov 4, 1997