Sore point
Sticking point
Place
Theory of
Negativity
Negligibility
The arms of
Some face
Walk across your
View and you
And you and you
Are in a game
But you sit out
Like the Red Rover
No one wants you over
Or cares if you come
To some happy spot
Only cares if you toe
The mark
And killed the spark
The fire smothered
By careless
Caretakers
Who would rather
Beat you than
Feed you
And mockery
Is a crime
Only if you
Get caught
At the gate
And the summer
Country waits
For no one
Drives onward
Into obscurity
And the madness
And your mad state
Can only be told
By a naked
Cry in the harp
And the strings
Shudder in sympathy
While the woods waits
For your footstep
Across the fairy ring
And then
Finally
You can fly
Without string
Or tails
And the world
Floats behind
And the stars
Welcome you
Home.