Narrator
Freight train is blowing
Loudly down a track
Our money is gone
Not ever coming back
Potency of Poetic Injustice
You stood, missed the ending
My answers still pending
Rules, again you’re bending
You cry for Warren Zevon
Breath of a Woman
On an unnamed plane and moving slow
Nothing behind, certainly nothing below
I sit pretending I’m in a trance
To tired to make a wholesome stance
Grace Will Hold
Up on the hill stands a clothesline
Rope just hangs and dances about
Those few strands you can see
Soon gone away, no more doubt
Walk a Fading Road
To walk the road
To see the dust
In summer’s heat
I feel I must
Decades
Close your eyes, relax and go to sleep
Don’t waste your time counting sheep
I will eat your bread and eat your meat
I won’t toss you a bone, my feeling too deep
Of People, Past and Present
Her gown made of wax that shimmered as she walked
Touched her body, a phone rings, someone needs to talk
Pouring the mornings coffee, I take a seat with a view
What gets us here, how it got done, I believe God only knew
Mercury
Questions what was seen, doubting where does this go?
Light gets covered, enveloped, she steps in mirrored glow
Shattered pieces, a dream, a glance, blind and cannot see
What art and this destination can do, yet only for Mercury
All Stays, All Goes
On a short rope, in a tight space, hidden, all in plain view
I’m fighting the things, round by round, stuff I indelibly knew
Puzzled by sleight of hand, a king, a queen, became a three
The trick here is to pretend absence, nobody could possibly see
Gathering
Got here early, sun was waking up, yet still hidden
Quiet, I suppose, warm enough, to see the forbidden
I find the first open chair, a kind of view to sit in