every day i have gone out
it has been overcast and gray
you would think it’s all about
to sit real low and stay and stay
nothing stops the slide.
we design
a lens
for the low light,
for the beauty
that would otherwise elude me,
for the glide
i found a cure for hesitation
on the windowsill
another day to stretch my sin
till the sun falls still
birds rest on statues of birds
men take down statues of men
cause and effect,
sure.
but no ill will
out of focus, a victim
of my own projection
alive or dead,
top or bottom,
in the ground or
overhead
the sad world
and its clutches
there seems to be a place for everything
here to sit to rest and there to hide and seek
deep the roots will follow for what they need
a soft trust leads and protects the sea from me
the world is currents cursed with a high tide
but walk after sound to find yourself inside
thinking things through
is seeing the future
against the permanence
a tease will have to do
i remain a blur to many
strapped in and looking out
coiled and switched
but slow to curve
warnings are painted on
the sunset curb
slow for stairs
but push to climb
the mirror is yours
but the camera is mine
several paths to power
on the
same commute
low clouds at dusk
shape the canvas
collapse the hue
a powerful fade
hits much that you see
the islands were costly
the bridges were free
it all came from somewhere
and has somewhere to be
but not all who wander
and certainly not me
the resonance which makes the falling land
seem to fluff;
the imposition on the small self image of man
by the struts;
the welcoming spread of well maintained grass
from above;
must include something that drinks of the glass
until full but leaves love
it seems to go on forever
the moss and the blame and
this land of the skeleton frame
and the pull of the traffic and weather
but rest assured my friend
look long enough, and it ends
Sunshine and Wind 