Somewhere behind my eyes as I rest
At that precious slanted sieve
A vortex forms, where life’s radio station spins its tunes
Softly, constantly, the songs of living play  
  

Concave not convex; oh so inward bent
Songs that filter in reality
Not affectations that filter out
The real thoughts
These songs: As I listen behind my eyes

There I lie wrapped in a warm blanket
Insulated by the down of warm contemplation
Open to the possibilities of my days
Moving at the patient meter of time
Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly

There in imagined lyrics I drive a winding highway
Up and down grade
Side to side; a 4 wheel on ice; screeching
Relief from studded treads
Fear from the dreaded cliffs of my psyche
Steering by a wheel I hold untouched

Sometimes there I hear me floating free
Like a brilliant, March 1st kite, tightly tethered
A tail of memories keeps my level
A parchment lined with expectation
Thrusts me upward

Or there I lie by a black hills stream
Toe dipping in and out the water
Like a bobber with no real hook
Fishing idle prospects
Touching life’s possibilities obliquely

Or there I am driving small autos with my friends
Us like hectic bumbling actors
Seeking the road out
Spinning around fountains spewing water
Crazy cross way paths that
Pass in phase and double back

Simple songs of truth