"The Horn"
April 23, 2000

These words flow like coins
And they flow from my mouth
I take them down north and
They take me up south;
But it's time for them
To travel west-
Into the heartland,
To puncture the chest
Of so many emblems
Of modern scorn,
To silence them all
With a blow of my horn;
Don't move while I call-
The sound will explode
Into the ears
Of those it beholds-
I want you to walk out
Holding my hand
I want you to stand up
Without having to stand-
I want us to BE,
To be without pain
I want us to show them
Without modern shame-
I promise, I'll send them and
They'll send my horn-
And per chance I'll make it out west.

Adrienne E Helms
aehelms@edisto.cofc.edu

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