To The Nest (3/2020)

To The Nest (3/2020)

To the beach, to the party,
to the nest after starting.

With our feet, with our feathers,
with our storms, to calmer weather.

Two birds stroll against sand,
pecking through trash and scanning the land.
Convinced with time they’ll soar like lemons,
in time, they’ll float to old hands.

Flip the sky, flip the sunset.
Flip the deck, have we won yet?

Dive to sea, dive to borders.
Dive through time, try to warn her.

Out walking again, these wings, we won’t need them.
We’ll be running.
With nothing again, these things, we don’t need them.
We’ll be breathing.

So This Is What That Was (3/2020)

So This Is What That Was (3/2020)

What a wild time.
Wrong to go outside.
Had to stretch my leg.
Get out of my head.

What a crazy day.
Sunshine hid it’s face.
Forced to walk around
barefoot carpet ground.

Coffee beans and drawing things.
Puzzle piece and 4-blend cheese.
Scattered words meet nothing heard.
One-man herd, a distant bird.
Brings me to thinking,
What of this really matters?
Who out there’s on my team?

What a funny night.
Sleep just wouldn’t fight.
Had some real life dreams.
Outside under beams.

What a different scene.
Everything’s so green.
Folks, please stay at home.
Nicer out, alone.

Cocoon Blues (3/2020)

Cocoon Blues (3/2020)

Blue caterpillar called me one calm winter night.
Tapped its toes and threw a song through the line.

Blue caterpillar lives, sings, it gives everything.
Found palms, ground and fingers, flew from a fling.

Seems we are done hanging.
One of those days we just started walking.
One of these days, to be flying.
Flying up there with the leaves.

Blue caterpillar lands, stretches out, brand new life.
Climbed out windows to rooftops to see who was right.

Blue caterpillar walked out to talk that cold night.
Flapped it’s wings before it set all of me on fire.

Saying right now is not the right time.
We’ll sing our song together somewhere down the line.
Any of the songs we’ll write.
Cocoon, start moving.
Over all the hanging.
Any of the songs we’ll write,
whisper soft good nights,
til morning puts up its fight
and we hang through the day.

Six Feet (3/2020)

Six Feet (3/2020)

The streets are empty.
It’s gorgeous outside right now.
Days inside fixing puzzles,
watering plants for sun to plow.

The beats are empty,
silently slide the ride right now.
Sit alone by a fireplace,
left waiting like tears on a clown.

All these beans and pieces and pages,
I can’t find boring.

I walk around my room.
Ceiling fan’s my only fan,
but one of these days I’ll bloom.

I jump around my bed.
Ceiling fan’s my only fan,
and still things get to my head.

Their hearts flew, distance.
Suddenly inside somehow.
Pace in there, in the desert,
writing out happy and the frowns.

Their art skewed distance.
Speaking up through screens somehow.
Nights around the rectangle,
‘til six feet takes its final bow.

They say some things differently.
Not asking, just laughing, there’s no one around.
Another corner piece.
Talking to myself.

Thoughts flew distant.
It looked so nice out there today,
and I stand up because I can’t just stay.
Walk over there just to see it, turn around, and say,
‘the last corner piece!’ from six feet away.

State of the Fair (3/2020)

State of the Fair (3/2020)

No one in the streets,
they’re singing from their balcony.
We’re taking more than we need,
leaving no chicken for me.
Back to this state too late.

Panic, off the beat,
we’re reading headlines on a screen.
They’re singing from their balcony,
leaving me yearning to be
somewhere where time stands still.

Lost our jobs and scrambled.
Figure it out I’m sure.
Look back at what we’ve been through,
before it’s all a blur.

They’re do-nothin’ liars.
Whispers while their nose grows.
Where’d they go?
Silence, left us when it got tough,
disappeared like they faked it.
How ‘bout a, ‘hey, did you make it?’
Were they ever around at all?
Doubts, so stressed out that I called her,
I’m done pulling all their strings.

‘Genius’ on TV.
They’re singing from their balcony.
We’re hearing things we don’t need,
leaving us left questioning
where we really belong.

‘Stable’ cuts off Queens.
We’re led by stupid, makes me scream.
They’re singing from their balcony,
leaving me wishing to be
somewhere where she’s still here.

Figure it out, I’m sure.
Required are all the blurs.
Listen down a street,
they’re singing from their balcony.

In Search of Dull (3/2020)

In Search of Dull (3/2020)

It’s cold as hell outside
and you’re not near.
Walk without my jacket.

It’s quiet, stuck inside
and you’re not here.
Singing to myself again.

Give me a dull moment.
Slow the world for a while.
Have we forgotten how to laugh?
Have we forgotten how to smile?

It’s dark as hell at night,
and you’ve been gone.
Surprised my eyes aren’t used to it.

It’s morning, different, bright,
and you’re not wrong.
Putting on my sunglasses.

Gonna get up and feel the sun.
Walk out and find me a dull moment.
Way out, forget the calls and letters.
Get up and slow it all down.

Bridge Around the Bend (3/2020)

Bridge Around the Bend (3/2020)

Some weeks I can’t carry myself.
So weak, I don’t know how I’ve made it.
I don’t believe I’ve burned these bridges.
You know that I don’t like heights?

I’m not afraid to go back.
Not afraid to walk on.
Afraid of wandering aimlessly
with no one to share my song.

Something chase me somewhere I should go.
Someone chase me into the unknown.
I’m supposed to be going home.

Some days I’m so proud of myself.
So dazed, no wonder I walked through it.
I don’t believe I burned those bridges,
they must be around the bend.

Time, distance, silence –
where do you end?
Chase me, race me, face me.
I don’t bend.