Idaho

You say the gods are more use to you than fairies
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
birds against the wind
over the river, on the hill
there are three ways in which men take
and she knows a cheap release
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
just as my fingers on these keys
I wonder where you live
will you come tonight
the door keys are under the mat
sitting in my rocker waiting for your tea
who will be naming the wind

the hypocritic days
in the autumn of my winters
green afternoon serene and bright
hazy, blur, falling and loud
if i should go, think only this of me
that I don't wanna know
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
at all little things as little as me