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and so we look for godís head
her hand heart index
and wander thru fields of daiseyd fabric
amidst bird & other jutting hides
convinced of our obscurity
with no water in sight
there is still a view
dinnerís a bird buck free as world summit radicals
while picking plantís forbidden
always singing from a roving mic
and turning other cheeks
is life really scrubbed hills on horizons
cobwebbed treestumps and openwindowed sky
scarred only by friendly puffed clouds
and other irises

- Bernedette Muthien
(25 august 2002)



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