Bull’s Eyes

 

Fingers and feet don’t know what to do with themselves

When you have to be a stone

Waiting for the rain to turn you into a flower

Waiting for rain with open lips and hands

Sometimes the fidgeting turns into a dance

To loosen the limbs, the head and the heart

And endless swirling into the pulse of one’s heart

Sometimes lying flat and throbbing

Your iron will throws at the phlegmatic sky your own virgin blood

Instead of rolling down the hills to seek pleasure

By striking the rock for water to come out

Or you could be a black and white photo

An immortal gaze watching time zip by

A teardrop falling into a black hole

While ears wait and sweat

To hear the sound of contact

They wait for the rain and put life and death on hold

To make sure your eyes are on the ball

Following the ball

Moving with the ball at all times