Across a valley of tall cotton grass
There is a hillside where time doesn't pass
And down the hill from the trees we ran
Holding moments in our open hands
As we greeted the edge of town
Our eyes followed the ravine down
And from the trail we did stray
Spotting the portal tunnel that day
Messages from over the years stood, tall at both sides
We crept forward into the growing circle of light

A large bale of hay, a place to rest our backs
You showed me the trails in my palms
The things I'd done formed tiny tracks
Like the trails of stars, we drift with the breeze
Or thunderstorm air that blew through the trees
A blanket fort hot-air-balloon
Lifted by an ageless tune
The lullaby stories are sung by the full moon
Saying, "Try and rest your eyes, darling,
Morning will come soon"
So day broke and I held on tight to summertime
(For winter I cannot grasp)
Like the things you have with you
That you know will leave too fast

You can watch the sun move as it sets,
An orange stripe thinning,
But my how things get dizzy
When you notice that you're spinning

Now, I'll wisk away
responsibility without commitment
in the name of art
out of me
out of this room
and now, here I am.
There are walls around me
and inside these walls
are liquid dreams and changing colors
and warm light, flight,
loud secrets, and love!
And impression, upon impression, upon impression,
upon exponential impression
creates something very different from what it started as.
But who's to say
it's less real?

We drift in the autumn winds, play with hair's curls, dance in circles with the leaves in the street, lift the wings of the circus... There's beauty in the darkness of simplicity, intensity in the highlights of the silver moon, and the stars smile down on you all, knowingly, we're good friends. You may feel lost, even here in our arms, yet we cradle you so lovingly.  And now that you hear us, sing us a song. Now that you hear us, lift our words into the air to where they belong~

a boy goes to bed
feeling tired and worn
he longs for some starlight
or the sound of a storm
but his thoughts keep him up
and the air is too warm
and the darkness just opens his eyes
and the darkness just opens his eyes

two eyes stare forward
into themselves
searching for meaning
or something that helps
but all they can find
is the concept of self
and the feeling of being alone
and the feeling of being alone

a vagabond reaches
the end of a road
his jacket is torn and
it's starting to snow
and now he is wondering
where he should go
and if he will make it in time
and if he will make it in time

the breeze travels lightly
with no place in mind
the lovers are loving
at no certain time
and the poets are sowing
the seeds of a rhyme
and no one knows what to do next
and no one knows what to do next

he watches her sleeping
sees the air fill her chest
the love he has for her
is all he has left
she wakes up and sees him
and they both know it best
that eachother is all that they need
that eachother is all that they need

I admire you tree
never having to bend or look laterally or do you
doubt
your meaning?

Reaching for blue skies with limbs
leaving root digging determinity
earth drenched brown bark strong seeming
godly.

I am so blue, looking at you so calm and distant
composed with no worries only a day again to make oxygen
feeding man.

You leave and seed and sprout proud, purposed on this earth
never doubting and  so,
I would like to bow to you. Tree.

I saw your laughter land amongst the branches and the telephone poles, you danced a different shade of green through the lawns, I thought of the many times I had stood on the bridge along Sun Street, all the festivals that happened there, and not once did I think to lean over the edge towards the river.
Our bones lay in the library gardens along with, perhaps, the skeleton of a violin. Our families missed us because this is what we did, where we came, every day.