Would I follow you to the moon?
Emitting a carcinogenic succor from rosy pores.
Would I feast on love, nourish my soul.
You inhibit free thought, blocked by bright freshness.
The newness of you.
Palatable pleasing friend, fellow fool,
dreams of flowing flower fields
of pulsing purple orchid ballets
fill me in these lost moments with you.
Would I dance with you?
Dance in the wild grass beyond the orchard.
Dance in the rolling hills outside this valley.
Dance in the stardust that showers from your eyes.
And then . . .
Only then . . .
The farmers plow is seen and
two fools crushed by steel blades.
Regret of the blind, unable to see
dancing death dip, bow, buckle and leap
Lowering the scythe with a bony smile.
Copyright �1999 by Toshi Casey. All rights reserved.
Toshi�s biography page