forward flowing me
my life’s been
funneling
and tunneling
towards
things
,kings
and flings
but who cares about it when your gone
you were born at dawn
mr, honest john
and dusk is nearing
it’s in the clearing
that why the slipping moments
you should be fearing
or cherishing
or clinging
enjoying the present rolling
between past and future
like singing: its a river
a shiver of life
an eraser of strife
and a protector from the knife,
the moon is my wife
and sun is my brother
and that plane overhead is the other,
but who says we gotta know
everything at once
for sure the
trumpeter and the journalist
and politicians all around
through the town speak riddles
and use words like fiddles
to craft truth for purposes unknown,
it is never shone
whether it is a clone
of the past
like some giant mast, supporting a sail that never fails
like never ending growing nails
the wind always blows,
but just not always in your backyard
, and that don’t mean you should just lie there and rust,
for this i must
tell you
,i wish you to fly,
and dream up a vision like no other,
like a screaming kite falling through an abyss, until
it catches hold of flight
and how it is really light
among the clouds
and sings along
among the birds
and knows already the songs and their words
much like the repeating seasons
and their growing flowers and repeated deaths
you may choose the infinity between what’s right and what’s left…
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