frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

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2015–

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2009–2013

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2007–2002

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2002–1999

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1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

8 October 1996

the three things

My broken tricycle only has two wheels.
And I am scared of dark forests.
"Mama? Mama, help. I can't see."
For some reason I am underneath
and the rusted axel is deflating my heart.
"Mama? Mama, it hurts. I can't breathe."

There are only two things I am scared of.
Dark forests and being alone.
But especially being alone.
Maybe that is why I keep pedaling so fast,
so I can get away before I get two scared.

The rugged path keeps pulling me down.
He grabs my hair and scratches my back
and shouts at me to slow down or stop.
"Mama? Mama, where are you? I can't hear."

I remember one day when I used to be happy.
There are two things that especially make me happy.
Shiney red tricycles and tall green trees.

My untrained muscles are starting to tear.
"Mama? Mama, help me."

And the third would be falling asleep in a small field of roses.

 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