Hand in the cream pot
with a silver spoon.
Times past remembered
in the month of June.
The fluid of time
Your face my mind
Dripping in milk
Framed by a black sky
Men walk on legs
I let them pass by.
One hand, pure white
Your moon, my kite
Fingers that slip
Slither into you
Wishing to touch
Wishing they knew you
Hand of the mother
in an apron string.
Face of the clover
through a silver ring.
The slime of night
I fly, I might
Words made of smoke
Changing forever
Tearing apart
Weaving together
One hand, one jar
To fill with stars…
Download MP3: Cream Pot