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

30 March 1995

memories

why must they leave so soon i ask.
because they grow on trees
the sky tells me
and must fade with Time.
i clutch the green ones to my heart --
as if by holding them tighter they will live forever.
a burgundy tear drips to the brown,
staining forever the crumbling fibers.
the one so recently preserved in glass
is gently nudged by a giraffe and falls
shattering on a turtle's shell.
in aching fear i rush outside
to pick more.
but No
the clouds say
only jokes grow near the ground;
the Living -- the Healing --
are found deep above
and must be offered.

 Here's one for ya.   go find yourself.   late again   skys passing wave raining clouds and offer healing sun   où es-tu   dim Mornings in the underground   memories   squirming on the bath room ceiling   open   the faces on the side walk pass me by   life and living   Song of Peace   from Time   the Mountain   My Father   so i painted a red cross on my chest   my living eulogy   my plastic house   alone again   frustrating   the Song of my heart as it grows and changes   In Dark Brick Dungeons   clanteba mortillia   Lonely is   my call to this Omnipotent generation:   friend (and, by now, even brother)   my PCC   Our Garden   Cognoscente   The Home   careFree   the Children   full moon   if I were a Painter   For You   Caterpillar March   Prison   As I Went Walking   Norwegian Cockatrice Lampposts   Departure   or   The Falling Apple   Peace