children dream

the sort of expressionist crap i write
it's all for you
green blazes and smoldering corners
it's all for you
who are you, marble eye
the wings on my final epitaph are weak
faint, traced and untraced
erasers are rarely ever permanent
in the household in my head
there are down quilts on all my beds
there are ashes in our urns
and each great stanza
every powdered face and chorus line
it's all for you
the pirouettes and vital signs
it's all for you
but who are you, distant cry
i've never wanted answers
only smiles, but these days i want
diagrams and blueprints and
exactitude. it's a phase.
it's all a phase.