I fell for the guy you used to be
Before you knew
You had a piece of me

Keep to the right
You know the way
Lonely night
Long day
When right is sometimes
The solitary way

All is fine
Let’s pretend
Not much of a stretch
But still
Stretched
Someday maybe
Almost fine ends
But at the same time
Almost fine
Is better than
Not good

no need for conversation here
chet baker on the stereo
reminds me of the words we share
when time has no place else to go
immobile as a broken clock
still on the wall a bird inside
long separated from the flock
not knowing where to find a ride.
the need to flip the record soon
Inspires me to lay down my pen
move through the crescent-lighted moon
and drop the needle once again
then listen to the falling man
bend summer into one last stand.

sometimes this overwhelming joy
brings earth in sight of paradise,
the anxious mind that would destroy
such ecstasy with ill advice
stilled in its ancient chattering
of good & evil understood,
imposed as bitter reckoning
beneath the stone where moses stood.
at other times the mourner's song
has wormed its way inside my head,
an occupation loud & long,
as if it pushed itself instead
of beauty, love and holiness,
insistent with its emptiness.