Reflections From My Desk

I gaze at me without virtigo
But my fears arch behind
The mirror knows none of this
Of the shadows in my mind
Second cut is the deepest
When the demons are kind
But when the sun is brightest
It can make you blind

I reach for the knave of spade
I evade his upturned eye
That sees past my rooted feet
To my fast fragmenting sky
And little bits fall like rain
I cringe in horror
Must hide the pain
And little bits fall like frost
I guide you home
But I am lost

Saxophone

Black hands encircle an ivory moon
Eyes dance like stars,rejoice too soon
Feet drag their doubts,hearts skip a beat
Play that sax,the charm is complete
Black eyes eager,the reticent can sleep
The faces laugh but the sax will weep
Tomorrow my house will be bombed down
And the white will say,shoot the clown
They killed my sister,they shot my son
But tonight is the sax,no smoking gun
And brother when you are in the ghetto
Like us,sinners in paradise
Black harlem,your home where
The saxophone never dies…

Wet sand

Between us its wet sand and waves
That crash and curl around the toes
We build castles that tumble down...
We build again...
Thats how the story goes...