got any dreams that flow through your eyes,
your hands and your your heart and your whispers and sighs?
got any ways that you’ve long yearned to go
so that you pass the borders of all that you know?
do you have streams where your consciousness reels,
and the woods and the rocks are your court of appeals
for the worn accusations that tear into skin,
and leave you defeated before you begin?
got any reasons for why you stay stuck?
are you up on events, but still down on your luck?
are your fears very few, or someplace out past plenty,
and when friends need hope, have you lately got any?
if i could climb this fence
and be just like this vine,
i’d hang out in the sun,
and love it, all the time,
just like i’d love the rain.
instead i don’t like either:
the rain’s too wet, the heat’s too hot,
or i’m just an old
as last, we meet
the game begins
they always said
that we were twins
by more than looks
you’ll be outclassed
for i am king
and will be so
fathers, forgive us
for your sins
and our building on them
many the days I could’ve stopped,
many the ways I should’ve gone —
ever and onward, homeward drawn,
always the route I don’t adopt —
why, when I knew, did I not cease?
is there no balm in Gilead?
road, carry home this old nomad
back to his place of calm
time on earth won’t last forever:
how tomorrow turns to never —
but, we think that we’re too clever
to miss out, or let time go —
soon, the granary is empty:
oh, the things that i let tempt me —
wasn’t i just one-and-twenty?
where the grain went i don’t know —
shallow choices deepen sorrow,
promises know no tomorrow,
and we can’t buy, steal, or borrow
one more moment,
Why am I so lost, why have
I driven here?
What was it I thought
That I would find?
Where is there another who
How is it my curse
Is my own mind?
Every day the body breaks,
The heart grows numb;
Every night, I only long
Every month, another kind of
Of what life’s supposed to be,
With love to keep —
So I turn the lock, and
Open up the door,
So I throw my suitcase on
So I know, it doesn’t matter
Where I go,
When everything inside of me
Walking along here, hand-in-hand —
We stopped for no real reason —
The sun goes down upon the Gulf
And ambience was our ally
So much of loving is like this:
Just random, quiet moments
Where all the presses us is gone,
A bad guy
I was thirty-eight, it was
The year that we got married;
Traveling for the company
In cool and fair September,
I came along a fence aside
A field with straggling livestock,
And stopped to take a photo, so
That I could long remember
The shadows of that innocence,
The sunlight of that meadow.
The fence that separated me
From this great otherwise:
For I was thirty-eight, it was
A time when life was changing,
When what the future held for me