The wind still blows thru
The old Walden Wheel
Where we sat under that
Hole in the sky
And talked of flying
Far away and becoming
People.


The hinges still creak
Where the stars listened to our strictures
On love, life, and magic.
They would dance if we let them.
Speak even, when we could suffocate
those voices that insisted,
“Back straight,
banish your heart,
Balance it ALL."

Would you believe me
If I told you that
The wheel turns ‘round
still?

Would it disturb you to know
That it screams on without a
Master even now,
As you lay your children to bed?
As you lay your dreams to bed?
As you follow your lover to bed,
And dream of diving headlong off that
lonesome eye
into
the
black
Un-
known?
~
I was told the engine man
had been swallowed by the machine
Many years ago

The wind still blows through
That wretched wheel of ours.
Still ticking, whirring, counting,
Well after we are gone,
Well after the metals are scrapped
for timepieces and children's toys.