Swiftly Go the Days

The Sun hangs low in the sky
On my early morning drive.
She rises just below the visor
Directly in my eyes.
Our eyes
Just one in a river of cars
Barreling toward the morning Sun

What does the sun do all day?
Does it get to go out and play?
Does she watch the children play ball,
Or the first time they walk or crawl?

I may never know,
Because I only ever see her
Shining directly in my eyes
Just under my visor
On my late evening drive
When the Sun hangs low in the sky.


Float On

After months on vicious, roiling seas
A blind man steps into the crows nest
And we ask what he sees.
“Why, an island in the mists,” he cries
And everyone believes knowing it’s a lie
Because the alternative is starvation,
Is loneliness,
Is loss of control.
But nothing is that easy.
There is no plan, no destiny.
No island, no land.
Just reeds
Too wet to grasp
in a river flowing too fast.
No one is in control.

There’s nothing we can do.

So settle into the calm reality
That even to the best of our ability
We can’t escape that cold inevitably.

Lay back, and float downstream,
Let go of struggle,
Let go of control,
Because we never had it anyway.

Punctuation as Expression, or How I Feel About the Subject

A comma, a beat rest for a beat change, a thought within a thought,
Then a full bar rest to let the whole sink in.

That’s probably right; I don’t really have a clear idea of it, nor do I of its half-rested partner.

Maybe my expression was in form of a question,
With an upward inflection?

Excitement! A feeling that flows,
From the depth and surface of our souls.

(Realizing)(knowing) how (you)(we)(I) feel in the (rules)(terms)(applications) of (culture)(language),
To (show)(express)(say) to others,
Using the (laws)(conditions)(terms) of a culture(language).