I seek the meaning of the glyphs, Inscribed
          upon the dark night's sky, The universe-
                     's  secret to achieving, The final
                               draft on the first try. That gloating sun with
                                     all his pride, Would blind us for his portrait
                                              days, But inconsistency made him weak,
And he always rushed to finish
                                               With all but good intend I stand, Channel-
                                   ling that boastful pride, And night's cold darkness
                              ere described, When Kodak moments go a-
                       way. The universe's secret to a-
                chieving, Will never be found in the stars,
        But in the portrait-esque blueprints of day,
   Which came out perfectly the first time, The
final draft on the first try

I seek the meaning of the glyphs, Inscribed
          upon the dark night's sky, The universe-
                     's  secret to achieving, The final
                               draft on the first try. That gloating sun with
                                     all his pride, Would blind us for his portrait
                                              days, But inconsistency made him weak,
And he always rushed to finish
                                               With all but good intend I stand, Channel-
                                   ling that boastful pride, And night's cold darkness
                              ere described, When Kodak moments go a-
                       way. The universe's secret to a-
                chieving, Will never be found in the stars,
        But in the portrait-esque blueprints of day,
   Which came out perfectly the first time, The
final draft on the first try

Aimless in wander brain chases feet
     a path this never was before
Break all the borders slave of the street
     tonight you sail the boat ashore

Fortune is written ye who believe
     may find it in a light dessert
Bakers of cookies aim to deceive
     tonight you stick your head in dirt

****** in practice gutteral mind
     to take the queen of clubs to bed
Or else just wander what can you find
      in the recesses of road head

Cruise ship grounded the ticket lied
     never got to Georgia strait
In missed encounters potential trips
     some company with to vacate

Break all the borders slave of the street
     or sit alone and count the days
Aimless in wander brain chases feet
     silence kills in many ways

Take me somewhere less conscious
By the hand
To la-la land

The rails sing a lullaby

Softly humming vibrations
Ambient song
All dark-time long

Coaxing down to sleep tonight

Bitter taste drains down the throat
Found heaven
three-oh-seven

Shut those eyelids one last time

Driving east on unmarked roads

We dance, we fight, we rarely speak

Wonders of an ancient world

The art is crippled, legs are weak



Modern medicines can shut
Racing thoughts
Forget-me-nots

The rails sing a lullaby

Salmonella sunset
  sets the scene for
moondance morrey
     into the mystic
Fool's ghouls haunt sunken treasure
Sworn protectors of
      the damages
      better undone
      Mandela's dead
Deaf men didn't get the message
"                                           !"
    a sad song it was!
Counting the days
        One a finger
waking up it's the same scene
           the world
That strange place
you Left behind
pigeons in the streets singing
"tomorrow will be like today!"




*and when that foghorn blows
I will be coming home

The first words to leave the baby's mouth
When he finally learns
The art of verbal expression
Are a solemn request for forgiveness
"I'm sorry" he says
"For the rivers of tears I shed

How many good dreams have I
Interrupted, three A.M. screaming,
Need you
Come pick me up,
I'm scared, or I **** myself,
I'm small, and weak, please help-
No more."

And he looks into his
Guardian's eyes, baby smiling,
How kind she was to raise him,
Time to return the favor,
Lifts her with his tiny arm,
And sets her down for
Her first good sleep in twenty years.

They grow up so fast these days

Within the realm of circumstance
You are a slave
To occurrences, a victim
Of probability,
A naysayer to God,
You speak prayers to chance,

Live thanklessly, not counting
The billions
Of tiny blessings, ignorant
To the little miracles,

Raindrops on pavement,
The soundtrack
In your all-seeing eyes, accidental,
A statistic, a probability,

As a blind man getting soaked,
Wanders home,
Happy for the shower,
Anticipating dry clothes,
Smells smoke,
And he knows,
A hundred percent certain,

Eight blocks before he arrives
At the front door
Blocked off by red trucks and news reporters,
That the fire is his own,

And he is thankful
For the symphony,
Grateful for his bones,
Glad this occured (it's all in the plan,
NOTHING happens at random)
And he never stops,
Smiling
Because he knows he's not alone