A poem about Abstraction

[milo]

. .

[Leanne]

and yet, when summer came that year
the photographs would clearly show
a lamb transfixed by silver spear
gone green in waves of vertigo

with sideways look and charcoal bow
a child arose beyond the hill
and in the barrow down below
the starving cry for music still

we sow our patterns where we will
for nothing comes to those who wait
with bowls for other men to fill
while fortunes die upon the plate

I met a piper, stole his tune
and rode it backwards to the moon

[Truerenigma]

and back from there when down i came
to land upon the heavy snow
in hills of sorrow, blame and shame
those mountains were so beautiful

I heard that song, the drunk man's song
his flute was so far out of tune
that when i heard it did long
for something that would make me swoon

I hate those things that make that sound
that scratching, grating, lacking groove
and every time i come around
i try to make them bust a move

Please give me back that flute, Ill try
to play a song that makes us cry