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

14 September 1996

strait jackeght



"You know that game you play, that's on a board where everyone has a little car to push around and you put little people in your car."



"Life."



"Yes. That is it."



She smiles a little.



"Imagine playing with a straight jacket. Nobody can touch your car except for you. You can't reach it with your hands, and if you try pushing with your tongue you can't see where you're going. So all you can do is look really hard at your car; or look really hard at the other players and maybe one of them will notice and use their car to give yours a little push."



This time she laughs and then looks back again.



"No, this is really serious."


 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