Dragging the Wine

He saw it in my eye's, a little sprinkle from the pines- little crinkles in the vines, what a pencil drawing up signs, nobody else could see have seen me at that time. It was time for revolution, people acting so fine, but they are only here for their crimes, so what is all this? A loop hole, or an archaeological find? In the trees- there is terror of the season of the mind, makes me prideful to the resistant, and the christened, ...but not to my sisters and brothers alike! Jesus was right, always- just like your anger is fright, always, its all fright, spring loaded contraptions angled real sly, shooting rocks and bribes, squaring off the moon- magnifying the sky... Add two meteorites, and a generation of the blind, and you will have my mind, flippant and fly, you will carry the eye's, welcome and kind, dragging a bag full of wine, wearing your check near your heart, and walking with chime, such a scene to be drawn by musical lines, to refine that little unwind.