From One Blade of Grass to Another
If I loved you like you loved me, we'd have quite a love, the love of yesteryear.
And if the snags learned to speak and sing, maybe then I'd accept your diamond ring.
But you are a bear and I am a bee, so there's no use in climbing up that tree.
I'm poised to sting and turn your paws red as fire if you threaten to climb any higher.
You roar and growl and whimper in the night, yet such sounds will not bring me nearer.
What tale would we tell if Juliet had resisted Romeo or Isolt resisted Tristan?
If Guinevere had resisted Lancelot, Round Table stories wouldn't have been bought
from musty bookshelves in the back of labyrinthine shops or bins of discount films.
Empty all the kilns, smash the pottery, curse art and sculpture—I am not your creation.