Oh, sorry.
Didn’t mean to offend.
I was just … resting here awhile
Thinking on things, journeying inside.
The rules involved weren’t clear to me,
I did not think you’d mind so much.
Me, just sitting and watching
This world and others passing by,
Not knowing you demand a show.
Tell you what, give me a few more days.
Just need to collect my thoughts
Before moving on.
Meet me,
at the first dream to the left
after the midnight bells.
I’ll be the one wearing a cape
made from peacock’s pride,
and a satin patch over
the wrong eye.
I mean it!
I’ll be there!
Waiting,
for someone -
someone like I’ve never met
(but have always known).
Someone carrying magic
in the heels of their shoes.
But how will I know
if it is you?
Not even poets know his name
This man who cuts all labels
from his virtuoso clothes.
And he who only speaks
through wistful
enigmatic notes,
has used no words
in weeks of history
with doctors and interpreters
from Poland, France (and Sweden too).
He has no voice -
slammed shut in mystery.
Incommunicado,
since that rain-soaked night
of sudden wandering
that puzzles all.
Did he fall out with someone?
Did he fall off a ship?
Did he fall off the world?
Listen how
he plays for solace
in his days.