For a cold world

January 24, 2008
All truth and at the same time
All hazy lies.
Lost but not alone
Lost is my home,
My home: my throne
Queen bee
Sits while the beggars beg
marry me

will she not see?
Will she not see the homeless weep?
Will she never find a home to sleep?
My pinnacled heart runs away after the storm,
And my sky clouds gray over emptiness.

My queen rules
A barren desert land.
And my king
Is any man I make him
On a throne
Until I take him down
And replace him with a satisfied other.
However, my mother
And father and sister and brother
Close their hands on the dime
And my checkerboard land becomes
A sea of wine.
Cold and all for drinking.

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