Highway Signs (day 2960)

It pains me that I cannot unleash my soul
And that it sits here, adoring and alive.
It rocks back and forth with comforting movement
Yet lost.
Purple and blue blinking lights
Reminding me of life late at night
That is more or less lost
On a highway road with dull signs
Still too far away to recognize,
So home is yet to become
The place I’m heading for.

I Wrote (day 2726)

Where did you come from?
I wrote letters for years
That remained unanswered
To addresses I didn’t recognize.
Every one of them I’d sign
With my most magnificent signature
I’d spent weeks crafting.
But you remained silent,
And I remained hopeful
And you remained a mystery
That my dreams kept believing in,
Craftfully twisting into
My perfect romantic interest
Until one day, awaiting at my door
Was a letter returned
With a signature I didn’t remember
That had been marked upon a letter
I didn’t remember I wrote.

Old Wagon Road (day 2608)

There used to be a sign
Along the Old Wagon Road that read:
“Past here is what’s ahead
Gone is what’s behind
Don’t turn back for anything
Or the sight will leave you blind.”
Seventeen men were said
To have taken ill advice
Whos remains are rumored laid
Ten paces from that sign.
But if you keep towards the road,
Visions that brought you forth
The Old Wagon Road will help
The slope and yours align.
Not many have ever failed here,
Though not many have dared come
But many’ an hour still to spend
Upon the Old Wagon Road.

Snow Fell Calmly (day 2424)

From the depths I held a rope;
Coldest cold, hardest struggle,
Frosted reminder in a window.
A sister I once shared
Secrets every other day.
Shadow reaching to my hand
Take me, take me, take me again,
Spring is coming here once more
Where once snow fell to the floor
Golden brows caressed me
Arcs implying recollection
In a pool: my own reflection,
Looking back I see the signs
Take me, take me, take me again.

Holy Boats (day 1956)

Blame not the recharge
Left slowly puddling into a dark corner
Of this uneven hardwood floor,
Nor should holy boats
Hold these oars tightly so.
Thee witness’ callused palm
Scrapes dry a soiled seat,
And a martyr hangs listlessly
As townsfolk carry on.
Mild wind blows a crooked sign
Making rust set within,
Harder then an open wound
Stronger then the sun.

Denim Free (day 1783)

Head pushing backspacer
Forever is a road sign
Empty windows feeding your seed
Fragmented vision – indiscreet

Waxing on the good side
Wondrously bowed a King
Stained white dustbowl
Shady blues bus stop

Cruel is a stop sign
When life’s on the run
Freedom is a hole in
Denim back pockets

Zero and One (day 1434)

I am a number that’s been picked and then released,
Signed and dotted twice and
Sealed strong with our family crest.

This is destiny in the hands of an entrepreneur,
Folding up the corners and
Wrapping tight the family chest.

Watching lights twinkle in a glimmer of urbanized hope,
Shaking off flood water and
Minding the high level mark.

Without a standard ruling system we are all zeros and ones;
Counting guides and shutting eyes
And a program we just press run.