frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

post

2015–

defi

2009–2013

belle

2007–2002

dada

2002–1999

sundance

1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

1 July 1995

so i walk up to you with this
cute little green apple that's dried for two months
with a flower cut into one side and your face in the other.
"I carved it with my fingernails before I cut them" i tell you.
you take it and try to figure out just what it is and what it's sayin
but it's so hard to tell cause it's all withered.
the Eyes have gone to sockets; the nose got squished;
the petals are all shrunk and it's a wonder
the candle hasn't fallen off the top yet.
even the Heart carved by the stem has lost it's shape.
"May be you can light the candle for some festival" i mumble
but then shaking my head in embarrassment i add
"I mean, well, it does have seeds inside of it anyway."
tenderly you nod your head and slip it out of my hand
and Smiling you whisper "Yeah; thanks."

 forgotten memories   of being burned at the stake   sweet dreams   sharing   hand-in-hand   the stranger   hidden courtyards   holding You   princess   happy day   loneliness   fragile, handle with care   my small trip to the cement factory   dedication   this record is for You   the day that I cried   Last night I woke up under my bed.   my silver Dancing shoes   Man my heart tears.   the three things   strait jackeght   like you   abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz   Fire cooks me   Princess Alexandra:  A Little Story   cats up cat twice   sweet rain water   little children   my heart   How blind I am in wooden glasses.   I know she's crying cause it stains her voice,   Dear Family,   I pound at my heart   We run away from the ice cream truck   purple sunset   J. Elephant   so i walk up to you with this   the Soul queen   so, you say that i do not speak   window   dear sweet old Ordinary   i am a Harp