04-17-2015, 01:31 AM
There Are No Phone Booths Anymore
I would take off imaginary glasses,
unstrap leg braces, and try
to cast off this secret identity.
Escape was not a door
that opened to a golden ticket,
the conjurer’s trick of the vanishing
lady. Instead lady becomes tiger, and escape
becomes the magic of the caterpillar.
I would take off imaginary glasses,
unstrap leg braces, and try
to cast off this secret identity.
Escape was not a door
that opened to a golden ticket,
the conjurer’s trick of the vanishing
lady. Instead lady becomes tiger, and escape
becomes the magic of the caterpillar.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson