Thursday, October 29, 2009

On Laps and Fists

Like a lap you have when you sit
and lose when you stand
or a fist formed from folded fingers
that evaporates when they straighten...

And maybe I wrap myself tight, tight, so tight
in semantics
to guard from the uncertain cold
But who cares!
Every word I've ever said
is a dancing shadow
cast by a sputtering flame.
The Truth sits there
in plain view!
But I'm blind, blind, blind

Yeah, life is just a lap
just a lap a lap a lap
someday, God be praised
I'll stand up.