Garden Belle
by
John Presco
Come to the garden Belle
in the springtime of more
dicontent
Will we plant again
in seperated peace
Will the police be summoned
and the Mayor
troubled
Again smell the lilac
from different plots
in the besieged city.
Quasimodo
fondles his bluebelles
that make his heart sing
the droning of the bees
the blue
coming out the top
of your head
the Maid of Notre Dame
Paris is burning
with love
Come to the pasture
Belle
be the Goat Lady
make war
pitch tents
recall our Idle Hands
For time does slip away
new homeless faces
making compost
with our dead ends
The old man is gone
who fell in love
with a violent Milkmaid
doesn’t happen everyday.
And now you know
now you know
Belle in her garden
with her seeds
making
exotic cheeses
for crazy anarchists
with Molotov Cocktails
