frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

defi

2009–present

belle

2007–2002

dada

2002–1999

sundance

1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

8 May 2009

my guitar hands

cradled broken in my hands
strings unfit for melody
cracked from years of unbelief
chords escaping wistfully

a song a glance a serenade
flailing rhythm increpid rhyme
a beat a chance another day
to crawl to stand to make it mine

tired eyes abandon sight
lost in fleeting worlds unseen
hopeless ears my music make
floating soundless in a dream

a song a glance a serenade
flailing rhythm increpid rhyme
a beat a chance another day
to crawl to stand to make it mine

 with one final kiss   looking for you   castle in the mist   Bakery Square   dreaming of you   airport   black and white   It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.   Trudging down the street.   one more day   my guitar hands   what a night.   Why did they need both the Atlantic and the Pacific?   as this morning's light   the king