Don't worry
it's only with my blood
that I'm crying.

Sunset and my sight is reddened.

There's a canyon in the badlands and
It's Montana that takes hold of my hands
to lead me in deeper.

Only in America
thank the Lord
for small mercies.

It's just the same
but different
and it's a game
we all play.

Individual
invisible
occasionally irascible
but mostly
amenable.

Count to five
hold your breath
another ten
and ten more
then another
smother yourself in the feeling
until your mind is reeling
and exhale.

it's a game, and we're the same
all testing boundaries.

Sunday night  and it might be Monday
tomorrow might be that other day
that we read about.

Serendipity doo dah
is what I heard
but serendipity
was not the word

they could have made the song
on a thirty three and a third
instead of a 78rpm.

She's shelling peas
off the Outer Hebrides
and he's being a lazy sod
won't even move a
pea pod,

but thinking takes up all his time
and thinking work might be a crime
he remains an innocent.

...
and I know
that dealing with it
is only the half of it
It's the reconstruction
that counts.

I counted the knives
the lives that I wasted
the loves that I tasted
and
but you know that

so
why
am I here
will I die
do I fear
no
because
I'm still dealing
with it.

In the heat of the moment
that lasted a lifetime
I was hers
and
She was mine

but a lifetime isn't long enough
and yet I found
that I was strong enough
to carry the weight of our.
world
on my shoulders

The mind grips tight
holds on to the what might
but the what might was last night
and now it is the morning.

woke up yawning
saw no chasm
this will be a lucky day.

showered and shaved
saved
breakfast 'til last
then
realised I have to work,

still feeling lucky
but *** me
no rest for the wicked.