Hiding In Simplicity Is Not Working The acappellas are sweet, but the horn says it wordlessly - Everything slipping in and out - and honey from the mouth that finds a man with his last dollar, and a lover who is looking the opposite way The world is a big horn anyway - with a sob in its throat & all the hope bluing up for a bawl, an inside dance - one golden howl into the masses that eases itself in and out No one opens their mouth anymore to say what they mean And a horn can play that game - it has the throttle for it - It has the sweat & the tears of honesty caught in a tap, a puff, a blow at the misunderstandings, uncertainties, long winded nothingness of all those voices who long to be a horn, but simply fall short, or shout louder, or tap down heads with the long fingers of money, and always, always, leave out the honey, the solid gold, the shiny brass, the eyes squinted barely open to blow love & sorrow into a wayward wind that finds its way into the heart of every child, woman, and man.
Posted on: Fri, 07 Nov 2014 03:14:07 +0000
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