girl called novella

i make mistakes, i trip myself, running after her
across the page, her curves within parallel lines
tracks in the snow, lost inside this world of white
she is allure, and she is blood and she is sound
an avalanche, she moves a hundred miles an hour
i stare in wonder, but then too late i feel her power
and so i see stars in the black roots of a blonde
and feelings rise that have been here all along

of all the themes of books and songs
the one that endures
is the one that eludes me...

so, i sow the sun to feel the warmth that she brings
and i write these words in the hope that she will sing
i am a poet to be gripped, this white shirt to be ripped
to be open, to be bare, to know belief and not despair
i am honest, i am pure, i know deceit, i know for sure
that though i made this cage with these lines of mine
i burn no pages nor penguins to keep this fire alive

of all the themes of books and songs
the one that endures
is the one that endures in me

i feel its heat, beat, through this capital of glass
a man without love is a mountain without grass
i can see the sun, and feel the life that it brings
i feel the truth, i am a breathless tree that sings
i am green, i am naive, i wear my feelings on my sleeve
for her to read, though she is the source
this curving river runs its course

into the light

into the light

into the light