Rapid Rapid,

You'd think he wanted you to quit
When he spoke his mind a bit.
One moment you stepped in the door;
The next, you're crying on the floor.

Your pride, you can leave behind,
You're either tone-deaf or you're blind.
That list of flaws of yours is long
But shortly it will make you strong.

Just when you think you've had enough,
He'll show you it's not all that tough,
He'll show you he has lots of love,
Tough love, that is--hope that's enough!

So face your fears, wipe your tears,
Lose those plugs that block your ears
And hear his words--the things they teach;
Place your bow and let your fingers reach

And touch the music in the sky.
You'll never need to wonder why--
Sing? Sing! For what? Just because!
THIS is what a teacher does.

Silly idea to come up here
On this rock, in the cold,
Hoping what we were told
Would be true, that the sky were clear,
Were blushing far away
With the faint light of day,
That something beautiful were here;

If yet the leaves had not withdrawn
And withered from the twigs,
If still amongst the sprigs
Hues shone like autumn fire at dawn,
We might have been entranced
At our luck, that it chanced
That something beautiful was here;

If I against my solitude
Had nothing but the gray
Clouds obscuring the day
And barren hillsides not renewed
By foliage but by bare
Trees, then I might despair
That nothing beautiful were here;

But then I feel your face by mine,
The tickle on my cheek
When you blink, and the shriek
Of the wind dies to a faint whine,
Inconsequential now,
And I am thankful now
That something beautiful is here.

I put my fist through the mirror
and grab a handful of abandonment
from the baby sucking on it like a lollipop

he laughs at me with thirst of blood
his hissing teeth
and of course my head is stuck

writhing in the mirror frame the shards
of glass at my neck I realize
abandonment is not quite taking candy
from a baby

love-garbed pointillism
painted upward
enjoyed

naked, standing
air-chilled,

before summer's
end it's
already cold