Paint a word upon an empty brick
Expanse of space and loneliness
And years gone by in the
breeze
of
decades
wasted
Don’t look at the carriages
Carrying empty memories and faded
Photographs of legends
And instant ancestors
On sale in the antique store
Rubbing sepia shoulders with
Postcards of places
Smelling of spices
Whose names you cannot pronounce
And people sitting
in the grandstand cheering
for the globe as it spins once more around


and around





and around
on a horse made of wood and
crackling paint upon
the ears that hear
the tintinnabulation
of music of years gone by
in a blinding flash
of illumination and this party’s over
and turn all the lights on and
often on a sunlit morning
the blue invades the air and pushes
rationale aside in the
quagmire of decisions made by
carousel horses that spin around




and around




and around
in hopelessness and tragedy
wears the smiling mask in among the backdrops and the



curtain falls
on
you
as you stagger up the mountain made
from an mounting problem that
stares you in the face like an
expanse of empty brick
for you to paint
a word upon