How much do heavy thoughts weigh ?
Just enough to crush you
Just enough to squeeze you through the unforgiving sewer grates of life
They roll over you like a high rise pick-up truck on a drunken Saturday night
See those possum eyes open wide before splat
How much do you really think ?
Perhaps as much as thirty pieces of silver or your brothers keeper .
How much do heavy thoughts oppress you ?
Subdue you ?
Demean you ?
Demote you ?
Destroy you ?
Deport you ?

Only God knows and he's not saying .

Where was white rabbit ?

The girl that breathes Canal street's Spanish moss and dances to Zydeco

I fumbled , tripped on the goal line
all tangled in thorns

Now charged to walk late night's on Jubilee

The fog plays tricks behind facades of listless taunts of truth

I gaze through haze but swirls of vapor twist the thoughts

***** , blues , voodoo , jazz and you ,
my white rabbit

Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.

A canopy of clusters.

At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.

Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.

Revive them with your breath.

Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.

The warm sound of flutterings.

Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.

The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.

It's a different
day and age now.
I used to write my
poetry on scraps of
paper or napkins,
paper sacks, whatever
was handy.
One time, I wrote
a poem
on a paper plate--around in
a circle.
I get dizzy thinking about it.
They always got lost, or beer
spilled on them.
My girlfriend blew her
nose on a sonnet.

Now, I keep all my
poetry and short stories on
the computer.
A file for this.
A folder for that.
I have to use a password, and
PIN.
It has to be something important to
me or I will forget it.
Lower case.
Upper case.
Symbols.
Numbers.
It's enough to drive me
batty.
Actually, it's a short putt.
Summer is coming soon, so I
thought some golf humor would
be appropriate.

The things that used to be
important to me aren't anymore.
*****.
Drugs.
Having a woman around
constantly.
I like to think I've gained some
wisdom with age.

Passwords, ugh!
I can't tell you what's important
to me now.
You might hack into my
computer and steal all my
pretty posey.