frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

post

2015–

defi

2009–2013

belle

2007–2002

dada

2002–1999

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1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

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1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

27 January 1997

holding You

i look down at my fingers wrapped so tightly they are turning
white
already the finger nails are tearing small red holes in my
hands
some where i know i must let go but doesn't it just feel so
good
to watch the drips roll down my wrist and arm into my
elbow
some times i wonder how i can be so complacent about the whole
thing
but in the end i really can't so
with carefully measured motions
i bend my head down and turn it
and
one
by
one
pry off
my withered fingers
staining my opal teeth
so that now when I smile they
match
my lips.

 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