Take

Take what you want
Need nothing more
For remembering
For singing song

There was no audience
No standing pride
Call of the monkey
Song of coyote

When the willow
Grows over your head
Look to the weather
Summer’s soon over

Find me in
The falling weather
Temperature dropping
Frost is coming

Always remember
Take what you want
Nothing worth calling
This singing song

Softly Star (day 2942)

I awoke into a starry night
And asked the voices singing me
Hold my hand, I am softly sentient
Delicate in harmony,
Floating on a midnight mist.
Open me to solve this mystery
So longing at my tender chest,
Your touch here upon my heart
Flutters for me so peacefully.
Then, just as gently as they came
Voices sang me right to sleep
And in my dreams I found them there
Lightly dancing in the air.

Mister One and Mister Two (day 2802)

Find me if you can
I wont be singing at the gates
Found a path
That led me down a mountain road.

Came upon two pillars
I took to calling affectionately
Mister One and Mister Two.

Hello, how are you,
It’s good to find you here
I have come from far
And I’ve got a bit to go
Share a tea, I’ve got enough for three.

And a bird came
Whistling to me
That took me off
To find a beautiful melody
Since that was all
I had ever hoped
Would find me here.

Ode To Birds Singing At Night (day 2250)

When I bed my wary down
An anticipated rest at night
Whilst stars still not yet hung
A song plays in a key so high
So high I must quieten to enjoy
First the symphony comes
From the right of me
A solo of hesitation
Then echoing the chorus rings in:
“All of life, all of life, all of life!”
Off into the distant copse
A clear and bright bird stands up tall,
Two so close
One behind
Now chattering from all around!
Carrying me off on a journey
Into a night so deep
To surely dream
Of more sweetly
Singing birds.

Left Shoes (day 1091)

She’s backstage
And I’ve been driving,
Reckless I know by name.
Shaking as high school.
And I’m a virgin.
Wet dick and anticipating
Romance full of pretending,
Two eyes on a 4:45 am highway.
Nerves and highway straits.
Tight and
Six low balls
Running circles ’round my
Jitter-bug baloos.
Scutter-bug blues.
Ain’t singing sister shows
Nothing wrong with going solo.
Motown and their twisting tu-tus.
And I’m in a stinky ward,
And the girls round here like digging.
And I got a girl who’s a dig.

Dram of Poison (day 994)

A needle digs deeper guiding the well worn thimble on
Scaring dogs, singing and howling like Big Momma John
Like she’s snaking about a pale spotlight covered in sequins
Singing the whole time about a blue moon kissing her empty bottle
And filling each patron of the evening with wonderment

A quiet lady, sitting idle at the bar dressed only in pink
Clinks cold bricks slowly about the smoothed edges of her glass
Pulling at her soul for every single bit of truth she has
With high hopes that this very night will reveal all that could ever be
And harness her abandon like the piano pullin’ Big Momma John in

A mood envelops the patrons, sensually gliding from table to table
Touching far reaching itches only elation and jubilation can satisfy
Like the silver lining on a red velvet goblet
Deadly for all those unaccustomed to these desires
And final, like large Gothic keys hung around the undertakers neck

I’m Sorry (day 786)

I’m sorry for wishing upon a star
I’m sorry for shading in my grays
I’m sorry for holding my glass half full
I’m sorry for not wearing socks
I’m sorry for listening to birds
I’m sorry for squeezing my hugs tight
I’m sorry for singing in the rain
I’m sorry for dancing you around in circles
I’m sorry for laughing at the jokes
I’m sorry for whispering into winds
I’m sorry for handling the hot dishes
I’m sorry for opening your door
I’m sorry for carrying the heavy stuff
I’m sorry for kissing you under that old oak
I’m sorry for making you tea