Home (day 2715)

This is my ol’ home
Two roads lead here
Two roads take me home
Raccoons, beavers,
White tails and jays,
Red spruce, gray poplar,
Two swamps and a small creek
Can’t think of no place
No home I’d rather be
Such yearning to stay
Here at the ol’ home
‘Tis here I’ll be stayin
All ghosts know my name
Been sleeping every night
In sweet long grass
Under constellations
I know by name
Family designs
With a dog who’s as dirty
As the dirt that sets us free
South facing slope
Stage Coach remains
This is the place
I take to callin’ home
Here you’ll find me
Two roads have taken me
Two lives have led me
To this old place I’m home

A Chance to Be Faculty and Chief (day 1119)

A valley, like my mind, may look empty on the inside – void of all that makes up matter. Void of all the mass that builds houses and factories and city roads and flower gardens and traffic jams.

For cannot this still matter? I am lost in a wasted land, and the fight challenges my patience along grated edges of wisdom.

Do you hear the sharp bells ringing? Is this the difference that is ringing, or has freedom finally called my name?

The sheath shall sadly fall apart, ragged from too much use like a cocktail napkin at a lipstick party. History shall not scream loudly here. This is not the bitter pages of a non-fiction picture book.

Here we have wrinkled tin garbage cans rolling lifelessly along unkempt lawns of former princes’, former glory holes that believed in a dream. A lifeless dream built on waste management systems and recycling plans.

So I cannot spoil my food anymore. My valley – running deep – is the chance to be faculty and chief. My valley is the early morning breath and the dying chances. My valley is the shortened season and the wilderness.

My valley is me, and I’ve begun to see.

Lessons From A Dock (day 480)

In all the searching of the world
Be honest with your soul
Let the cool countenance
Of the end
Smooth your hearts desires

In all the roads that lead astray
Follow the path least traveled
Make the route that you take
On and away
The route that cheers your heart

Of all the steps that you take
Make the next one always count
Allow the guise of winter’s clarity
Deep in frost
Be far away from thine bane

In all the waters that clean your mood
Away be thy dust and grime
Mind the skin that soaks within
On the thumb
Be a warning of what is too long

Streets Of Home (day 474)

The streets that feel like home
On the other side of the world
Make the days spent afoot
Easy to understand and carefree

Though meanwhile the memories flow forth
When all the days lust has been spent
Beautiful roads that lead in circles
Blow by my random waltz without cause

Hold back you lofty footman
Galloping here and there like that
Do you not see the trail of dust you leave
Scaring the peaceful travelers?

Pad lightly along the streets
They whisper intentions if you listen carefully
Wise in their resolution
Steady in their countenance

Life Seed (day 214)

Below your needs and wishes and desires
Sneaks a long legged bastard with evil desires
Screaming the devil and riding with bulls
Our roaming handles ride out in style

Along the gravel roads
Wisdom pulls at the rocks
Polluting the desire wheels
And holding onto the plan

Don’t let the train run through these hills
Clogging the damned marshes to bulldozed highrises
As far as we’ve planned and disregarded omens
They aren’t going hiding, our wisdom within

Please let the elders speak feelings freely
Hold onto the deep thoughts from within
Random encounters that plant a seed
Life seed that joins all nature as one

A Weary Traveler (day 209)

A weary traveler
Asleep on the bench
Tells stories not in his breath
But in his hunching
Like the slow arc
Laid about by the dropping sun
The rhythmic tide
Thrusting is weight
In an effortless fashion

A weary traveler
Tells more stories of destinations
Relates roads walked
And styles of architecture used
Within his own steady eyes
Like the flame that sits: ignite
A weary traveler
Knows in all due time
The stories worth telling
Do tell themselves out