on your door, but
folklore & myth are natural,
as natural as falling into
sleep under poppies, as love between you
& me. We have become
historical, we Are the old story now new.
Dorothy, we have more
in our hearts than all of human creation.
In a few generations we will be lost or
we will be golden.
Your home is not the grey the gross the gone. After all, you can bring everyone you love to Oz but you cannot make them wear heels.
Hold my hand, Dorothy, let us prism, change the lights, blur the borders, become stateless people. I wanna write lyrical but
all I got is magical. Dorothy, you asked me to tell you i remember.
and I do
I am whited out Dorothy, I become background. DOROTHY CAN YOU HEAR ME? I Fade I Fade I Fall, Sweep Me Up, I Pray for tornadoes.
Who was he
who told you
that you can’t
are made of spirit
& sound & when
they hook up the
reverse the elec-
trical charge. I
hiss as the suits
walk by, run,
hide, the sparks
will find you.
They talk of
war, they think
but we’re the ones with unknown thought
patterns. They are missing bones & Organs &
didn’t even notice. We are recreating our
histories & it all begins with the sparkle in our eyes.
Do you realize you could be the last of the miracles? The ochre runs through your veins. Breathe out:
the air shimmers. Someone touches
a screen with purity & we can
have that again; purity & glamour &
a new hope, what other moral is there in any story?