Life
Life continues to move along
Whether you get on or get off
Or sit there by the side
On a bench beneath the shade
To smoke a cigar and watch
The wind blow and the leaves
As they fall in every which way
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Venice, California
I sit and watch the waters flowing by
Before the flower gardens seen by all:
A place like this you're free to loosen ties
And break the empty shell of sudden squalls.
Back home the path unwinds a thousand links
Of men and women full of daily cares:
We have our wine and more but cannot drink,
Enmeshed between a place of name and wares.
Outside the skies turn gray and thunder pounds—
We hide inside as air begins to thresh
Throughout the streets until a s
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A Country Road
The moon has shadowed me, like stillborn air
Along a country road, adrift in threads,
Behind a worn out wheel, the pedals bare,
As time leaves nothing here but cast off dead.
I share these words with clouds in wind-washed treads,
Where rock-strewn shores in riddled dreams belie
And time has spun in tight a spider’s web
Of figures etched in deep the dusk-drawn sky.
With this in mind I set aside my clothes,
Now freshly pressed for travels lost, to where
The door is shut and all my business goes—
Who knows? —To sit in someone else's care.
Along a country road, adrift in threads,
Behind a worn out wheel, the pedals bare,
As time leaves nothing here but cast off dead.
I share these words with clouds in wind-washed treads,
Where rock-strewn shores in riddled dreams belie
And time has spun in tight a spider’s web
Of figures etched in deep the dusk-drawn sky.
With this in mind I set aside my clothes,
Now freshly pressed for travels lost, to where
The door is shut and all my business goes—
Who knows? —To sit in someone else's care.
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A Traveler in New York
The Hudson stretches on to the distant sky,
Desires run fast to follow the endless earth;
He stands alone without a reason why,
Seeking the sun on a path for life's rebirth.
Roots grown cold, this traveler in New York,
Current obstructed by all he would forego;
It doesn't matter which turn at the river fork
When all of life is a memory from long ago.
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Sweet
Nothing is so dear, a noble warrior said,
Than glory bought by armor pierced in blood
Amid the cries of those who’ve fallen in mud—
For what is life if honor’s been left for dead?
Emaciated, poor, or stuck without life’s luck,
It’s to the bold and daring that the world goes;
Whether in women, war, or what ambition sows,
With courage alone we come up from the muck.
Some say the day-maker rises with the sun
As the lord of night shines down from the moon:
For all that’s fire, a life without water is none,
Than glory bought by armor pierced in blood
Amid the cries of those who’ve fallen in mud—
For what is life if honor’s been left for dead?
Emaciated, poor, or stuck without life’s luck,
It’s to the bold and daring that the world goes;
Whether in women, war, or what ambition sows,
With courage alone we come up from the muck.
Some say the day-maker rises with the sun
As the lord of night shines down from the moon:
For all that’s fire, a life without water is none,
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No reviews yet.