Print

Print


Fran --
 
Just a try.
 
Cheers --
Sara
 
I cannot give the reasons,
I only sing the tunes:
the sadness of the seasons
the madness of the moons.

I cannot be didactic
or lucid, but I can
be quite obscure and practic-
ally marzipan.

In gorgery and gushness
and all that's squishified,
My voice has all the lushness
of what I can't abide

And yet it has a beauty
most proud and terrible
denied to those whose duty
is to be cerebral.
 
It rises through the rocks,
it thunders, echoes loud
within deaf mental locks,
just noticed by a cloud.