birthday poem

i never knew the earth had so much gold
glass-blower of time
and with the humming bird
lady, your heart has turned to dust
the arches of the red bridge
just as my fingers on these keys
awful truths these be
braided and woven
brief on a flying night
the hypocritic days
with the meek, brown eyes
she heard the children playing in the sun
the agony of having too much power