weaver

mr. jimmy today is today

yesterday we called it tomorrow

although it is always today

it is much easier to say

than it is to understand

a bit envious of your real world fantasy

dream becoming reality          

right before your eyes

itchy and irritated when we see

what has become of a dream we all share

common link in the weaver wheel gone mad

not going repeat what I have not said

your choice is one I am glad you have made

standing to one side

you arrive with your caravan of foot

soldiers armed to the teeth

let it grow he says as you trim it down

it’s yours to do what you like

with an arm full of sticks you start a fire

who will keep the vigil

watch over the green hills and bare plains

trying to weave my way into your thoughts

ideas as light bulbs flashing

like head lights in a car signaling

that they will let him go

what about cheese teeth

maybe you could bury it in sand 

good to know some things

what good would it be to know everything

just too much to handle

mouth turns upward when napoleon’s great   

grand-daughter embraces his empty heart      

can you see him weaver? 

weaver? mr. jimmy

don’t ignore your faithful servant

serpent biting at ankle bones  

found some years back

grin and bare it all

your feet climb the mountain

turn and watch this bird fly. . .