show me Father how to say this
turn the stones to flowers in their hands
...
beware of those the good book goes
who call sweet water sour
...
it isn't so much magic as it is, beauty
she said to herself coming upon the scene suddenly:
the unexpected snowfalls, the lemon leaf reigning
...
child from the careful tower you'll keep watch
and pray and dream and live your stories through
and they will not come after you
...
better to speak no word at all however embroidered
than to let one snowdrop teardrop diamond fall
...
the wrens of day awake and in their music
all they make how often I have been so happy
...
your heart encased like a paperweight flower,
like an early blossom in late winter's hour,
God has kept like a penny in His shoe,
...
wanted: any book with these attributes:
a hidden wish to fly, to become invisible
never to lie
...
should they be printed on paper as soft as rose petals,
more precious to us they could not have been,
the old stories...
...
THE WAY WE REMEMBERED IT THEN
For Andrei Tarkovsky, beyond Time for some time now
...