Pine and Oak

I look and lock down these stairs to the catacombs.

I understand as a stumble, there will never be freedom.

The intertwined pine and oak…lamented before me alludes to a place ‘never to be.’

Hatred and swinging leather belts.

Love mixed with skin pelts.

I write shortly of incidents others have felt.

Thus, I donate my life to disrepair.

To tiled and titled adults without a care.

Tell me now,

how polyester made life light?

Why the campfire of want…became hell?

Did Not Treat You Right

Didn’t treat you right.

I never did.

But then…

all my good intentions were short lived.

I had wished ’til the ends of the earth and back?

Perhaps, not.

Though, thru a break in the pane…

I would have riddled a charismatic plot.

There were…

zero second chances here.

No, to…

two ways

down

a one-way street.

Should have known better back in the day?

Vanity and clarity never find the same bed…

in which to lay.

Dream of Me – Jerry

In the attics of my life, full of cloudy dreams unreal.
Full of tastes no tongue can know, and lights no eyes can see.
When there was no ear to hear, you sang to me.I have spent my life seeking all that’s still unsung.
Bent my ear to hear the tune, and closed my eyes to see.
When there was no strings to play, you played to me.

In the book of love’s own dream, where all the print is blood.
Where all the pages are my days, and all the lights grow old.
When I had no wings to fly, you flew to me, you flew to me.

In the secret space of dreams, where I dreaming lay amazed.
When the secrets all are told, and the petals all unfold.
When there was no dream of mine, you dreamed of me.

_

Jerry Garcia

Dining in the Moment

I stood there over open water

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

Freckles of milk weed rustle with my flannel

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

I sat near a Shaker table waiting for New Hampshire autumn to wine and dine

It had been beautiful. all at once…then not at all

Conscientious Observer

I walk a foreboding country lane, as a conscientious observer.

The mystery of souls looming ever so close.

Behind moss capped tree trunks

and…

snuggled beneath peeled birch bark.

A party of three, the dogs and I.

Interpret nothing…only stillness catches our eye.

To capture moments such as these; an attempt to recall a dream.

And, though the harvest is sweet…

to come back daily, my only sense of relief.