a word danced in my mind
held out its hands, 'come dance with me',
called its friend, another word,
and then another, which made three.

Before I knew it, there they were,
ten dancing words on a page,
they formed a sentence, then a rhyme,
tapping time as on a stage

a dance, a ring,
as song they sing,
with lilt and lill
and jig 'n spring

then, of a moment, all was still,
no swirl of smiling prose or thrill,
a hush that said there'd never been
the tap of words as in a scene

as in a play of imagination
of cerebral recreation
just wet ink from my quill
like numbers on a shopping bill

from automated teller machine
standing fixed as ordered marines
letters silent as a winter night
the magic gone, taken flight,

waiting, waiting, for magic breath,
to rouse them into life from death,
when, once again, as talisman,
they'll sing music as no man can.

Our Holiday Season's fast upon us,
Ribbons and bows are holding sway,
But I recall all the fuss
With Christmas just two weeks away.

Yes, it's been a year already
Since being swept-up in the frenzy;
Singing Silent Night and Silver Bells,
And awake until the last Noel.

But Yules ago, when just a boy,
Not toying in childish play,
Yet wanting more than I could say.
With Christmas still two weeks away.

You'd think that on the twentieth,
I'd get a better sense of it,
Christmas felt two weeks away.

Come December twenty-first,
I felt I was Christmas cursed;
For it didn't matter what who'd say,
Christmas still felt weeks away.

At dawn on the twenty-second,
The smell of pine seduced and beckoned;
Beneath the needles I spied presents;
The outline of a gift-wrapped sleigh.
I cursed, “Is Christmas still two weeks away?”

The day before the twenty-fourth,
I couldn't see the wooden floor,
Gifts sprawled to the front door.
I crossed my fingers,
Wished and prayed,
But Christmas felt two weeks away.

The twenty-fourth languished long and slow...
The light would fade,
The night would glow,
Off to Midnight Mass we'd go.
We'd press palms and pray for snow,
Then genuflect and run for home.

Although it feels two weeks away,
I've much to do
That cannot wait.
Thank God tomorrow's not Christmas Day.
Or is IT just two hours  away?

i heard them before i saw them
cries of geese cutting the skies
at once natural, at once inhuman,
denuded nature with no disguise

Music books and old guitars lay scattered on the floor
The whiskey bottles empty, you won’t need it anymore
Posters on the wall of rockstars, playing to an empty room
No one lives here anymore in this dark and lonely tomb

Tortured soul, you sold your soul but you felt you had to quit
Why’d you have to ***** the fire of a torch that was barely lit
You know you meant the world to those you left behind
If only you could've talked to them or gave some kind of sign

Your fingers were still calloused cause you practiced every day
You tried to learn all the chords so that you could sing and play
Now silence fills this empty room where the music played before
It’s such a shame you took your life with a rope over the door

Tortured soul, you sold your soul but you felt you to quit
Why’d you have to ***** the fire of a torch that was barely lit
You know you meant the world to those that you left behind
If only you could've talked to them or gave some kind of sign

Your fans will never know how good you could've been
Since you took your life, and put that rope over your chin
You had to see what was on the other side of death
I wonder if you found peace as you took your last breath
There was only one way to end the pain and strife
Now you play to an audience in the eternal afterlife

American politics is a Nightmare
American philosophy is fluff
But American music: can't get enough.