I've got a little black book, with my poems in it I've got the wind to rock me to sleep I've got a perpetually dying radio That brings the news to me I've got everything I need up in this tree This tree I live in on my own I've got books and **** and mobile phones I've got a little two burner stove I've got a bright new perspective And every new day I know that I'm not all alone There are squirrels, and birds And bugs up here It feels like everybody is home.
Some reflections and an homage to Pink Floyd. My little sister once told me I'd have to leave that tree and face the real world someday. I dunno, the world felt pretty real to me while I was up there. ~2012/2013 Reworked this a little bit, I think it's finally come around.
I invited the band, to make strawberry jam On top of Strawberry Rock They asked me "What time?" I said "Be there by nine." They arrived promptly at one o'clock But once they began, the sea kissed the sand And the music never stopped.
Wooden spoon, traveling along A marvelous companion and friend With knicks and chips and weathered bits From all the places we've been Wooden spoon, hand carved with love Yet longing to be with the forest once more Thus it fell, from my net To the waiting forest floor
I lost quite a few things while living in a tree 100' above the ground. Just because things fall down doesn't mean they'll always be found. I was at a meeting, on someone's couch, when my hat fell off of my knee and my heart jumped. ~2012/2013