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

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

26 February 1997

hand-in-hand

Walking along one day I come to
a big wooden door.
It is carefully hidden but somehow I
found it anyway.
Of course I open it because it is a door
and I walk in.

Behind a stained glass window I
see your heart.
Weakly throbbing and almost pulsing
only there is not enough blood.
So the empty veins rise and fall in
angered contortions.

My hands caress the windowed pain in
anxious agony.
Silent tears blur my eyes and
stain the colored glass.
And for an instant looking through it
I see my heart dying next to yours.

 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