What defines the being of a man
A lesson learned
A dollar in the bank
Which none of them
Could ever be
Since none of them alive
Bows down to Gods
That none of Man
If that was then
Then this is by no means the end,
Two wheels rolling
And clouds so clear
Even birds faintly pass between them.
A dollar is gone.
Was it an even game?
A hand that served up
Delicious things, unnamed.
An engine that roared
As it began.
Lucky is every lost soul traveling on;
Full tank and such sweetness of a radio,
Then by two, sun’s beating in
Escaping for a moment into shade.
Watch Clouds and every bird so clear.
That was then and now is the end.
This is the feeling of overwhelm:
Two days of rain and projects building up,
Floor bound when flight’s on,
Time to readdress.
This short story takes turns
Down a windy road
With frequent signs of introspection
No matter how many steps to the top.
Self imposed time crunch
Rehearses for none
Though all week long there’s been impending stops
Leaking through the roof.
How frequent doth thou mind relook
Over building plans and agreed terms,
Dollar signs and debits.
And when nighttime comes,
Hard day’s toil leaves sleep slow
When the cold wind blows ever nearer
The open window of deception.
I am an unconditional innocence
Floating upon a wave
I see seagulls and sea lions
And sea urchins miss my toes
Unlike sand betwixt each tinglingly
Refreshingly searching for home
Amidst sand pipers and sand dollars
And sand fleas and tuna salad
That I only step in
Because I like the smell of this salt.
Gone to sleep again with extra dollars to my name
Which have left me with a memory that cannot escape recollect
But what if I could just leave it in a bucket by the door
Would the regular pauper find just what he wanted, what he was looking for?
Could then my neighbours sleep come easier than before?
Counting out dollars of an unmarked womans purse
She told me I had nice hair, I said she was rather curt
That is when she told me about her dear old fathers luck
That had run its course as a scholar written from a pen of steel
I was young, she was pretty, we had fun and then we both remained
Dear friends just all the same.
When the water boiled I poured the tea for three
She hadn’t come alone but we seemed to be private
I wrinkled up my nose to an unexpected story
That had me rather wondering when I would ever read his book
So we took just a minute to choose what herbs would do
And we sipped, then we stirred, and sighed until we finished
All the deeds left to do in a scholarly mans todo.
And if I was caught running
Your wisp would rush my toes
Curling under and in between
To help my source be greater.
You’d call out loud
You’d stop me quick
You’d be my imprint, washed away,
Sea shells, sand dollars, soft glass broken.
And in your fleeting memory –
In my test upon your banks!
Forever cycle into rhythm,
Ebb and flow shall now begin.