The Fiddle Playing Librarian Dream
An older couple needed help
Finding a book at the library
So they asked a lady with a cart of books for assistance
But the lady couldn’t help them
Instead she referred them to
A young man at a help desk
In the middle of the library
But the young man at the help desk
Could not help them either and said
‘You need to talk to Maggie
She is our head librarian’
But Maggie was nowhere to be found
So the young man called Maggie’s cellphone
And it rang and it rang and it rang and it rang
But little did he know
Maggie’s cellphone was at the bottom
Of her purse sitting on a street bench
Just outside the library
While Maggie played fiddle
In an old-timey string band
Now We Drown in the Cold Horse River
The cold horse river spills Indian eyes
Angel feathers burn in gold smoke
Soul civilizations were robbed of serene mirrors
Creek hearts fall over the dream cliff
Telepathic windows catch dead bird words
The good-bye tunnel links lost voices to the underworld
Old town river banks were piled with golden corn charms
Truth roots were eaten on deer dance nights
The blind chief would bathe in hot buffalo blood
Why did we kill the wind vision people?
Our wicked concrete maze only leads to black dog gods
Now we reach out our empty pale arms for the dead moon tribes
They were the ghost eagles of heavenly bliss
They drank the rose flamed remedy stews
Now we swim in the cold horse river
Now we drown in the cold horse river
We Will Eat Silver Moon Cakes Til Dawn
Do not flinch at blinking blackbirds
Be calm in the face of fluttering faith
Let false feathers pile ankle high on the floor
Watch them drown in the dry bird bath
Nature is smart enough not to say too much
Instead she paints pictures on paper clouds
The sunlight is a million long yellow quill pens
Last night’s garments dangle from naked stars
Let us feast on white tigers in the garden
Slice at the stripes don’t cut against fur grain
After dinner the sun will run back home to god
And we will eat silver moon cakes til dawn