If I could send you bees and bugs
Kettles, colanders, and cats
Linings from coats, toothpaste tubes
Cellophane from cigarettes, and fur
To furnish play and build your laughter
Up to dimpled creases, to khaki eyes
You would not be my little girl. Anyone
Can give you these. You find them yourself.
So I am giftless. You make independent
Fun. Even the great desert sun
Just as it touches the evening earth
Becomes your rolling red marble.
"Garden of Games: The Collected Poems of Charles E. Aufderheide"
Asylum Arts, Santa Maria, California 1993
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