I care not what the 'peoples endless song' alludes to ,
For I've reached my own personal conclusion
Save the cake recipe for another , for the -
icing is normally the same as all the others
Overalls cover my body better than the works of the finest clothiers
There is not a sock on this earth that competes with -
bare feet to warm grass , I've yet to witness a publican -
that failed to 'out bray a Jack ***'
Whiskey is good medicine for sore backs and 'hay cough'
Fancy cocktails and beer are the stuff of the spoiled and the jaded debutant
A full week of work is a gift , one hour without makes a sound mind drift
Simple music and ways can move a mountain
A parched , shut mouth with an open mind will lead thee to a cool fountain
Plan the death of a horse with a donkey in waiting , for the lamp a candle , the truck a wagon , for the cup a ladle
Watch the beast of the field quite closely for each one tells an invaluable story
Look into the eye of the January wind , face the Sun of August as if welcoming a friend , tithe the God of November rain with laborious days , face the storms of March unafraid* ...

Do harbor love for chatty Mockingbirds
Lead vocal of the Piney-wood , carrying
the news o'er the red hills , the peanut
farm and blue water grist mill
An audible question from the first morning
Chickadee , a quick retort from a Cardinal
in a Mimosa tree , sail the tepid current
mighty Blue Heron as Cottontails quietly feed the
Red Clover shelf , chirping Bobwhite graze withered , October
corn as iron vanes portend the coming of the Blueridge storms

Let the Earth receive the music -
of the lonesome eve calling , sung before cranberry ,
fuchsia , Monet renditions of sundown ,
before crystal garland evergreens , Hickory
tinsel , alabaster hillsides from the mortarboard
of 'Divine Creation' , odiferous rosin cementing
the grandeur of distant dark Sugar and White Pine
The conviviality of countless starlight from dew
wetted plain o'er boundless ****** night* ...

Girl, our hearts beat together as one
We share and care for another
As we enjoy this magical ride
Moments only become brighter
We cherish everything
Nothing but joy and happiness
We put each other's soul at ease
Throughout our journey, we have been blessed

I saw her
In the dark, in that alley way
Leaned against the wall
One foot resting behind her
One slightly in front
She smoked her cigarette and looked at me like I didn't know about pain
She hardly saw me
But I saw her every night
I passed her and she always waited
For the next guest, for the next moment.
She was like chalk
Pale and stale. Diminishing and entertaining
I noted her dark red lipstick.
Compared against her white skin and black hair it was the closest thing to life that I could relate her to
Her eyes always followed my footsteps past her
I watched her contemplate her choices as I faded down the street
But still every night I continued to see her.

Pintos and cornbread with a dab of pepper jelly
Walt Whitman poetry from a favorite chair
Hazelnut coffee with rousing jazz guitar ,
eating Manzanilla olives straight out of the jar
Rhyme and verse , raising the daily bar of affection
for Mary Ellen , walking the wood-line at night
"Chillin' in the vehicle of quietude*" ....

You are
the enemy
of reading.
I thought you
were a cataract.
Get out of my eyes,
and please let me see!

I thought of her often
She was a siren in the distance
Faint, annoying, pulling me aside, distracting me.
I thought of the way she loved me
A breathless love, a selfish love, more like a ritual.
I thought of her coldness,
The way she shut the world out.
She would look me in the eyes
But I saw nothing. I felt nothing.
I've never felt less from another's soul.

I think of her often,
But I don't like to.