a solitary duet

standing still unmoving in wide blue
roots sitting on craggy rock
needles of dark green float on foamy salt
the pine calls out to the other
a lonesome wail and melancholy

sing a song of deforestaion, of rising oceans
of drastic changes

the second pine replies, “at least we are still here”
two remaining trees
to the remaining trees

and they, unaware of the forests
that are too far to see
or are the forests gone

the first pine wonders aloud
the second cries
and the wind gives no answer


slow, fast, far flung

how slow the hours in which I am writing
how fast the seconds
the minutes
years with her by my side
how far flung the penumbras late at night
tall giants that loom ever behind our walking shoes
thick white lanes droopy in the rain
how fast we run, flinging ourselves into the unknown

and then there is tomorrow
i am always dreading the tomorrows
the nexts
and the must haves
lists which pile up like dirt under your fingernails
and how slow the clock moves, until penultimate questions of magnetic flux and electrical current are far from my mind
ink blots on the page from the lack of culmination
nothing ever finishes

“it is finished”

how fast
and slow
and far flung
how deep and wide and vast
the shadows that grow long
as we age

the time we have given
and how short
is there nothing
or anything

speak in grandeur and pretention
only thing left is the words
no meaning
not musings

sweet wine

I took some of my rambles from my recent travels and some old song ideas and combined them into this little song nugget.

all my lovers wear cast off crowns and jewels
and drank all of my sweet wine
but I have run my lovers at the race track
and beaten them at their own lines

all my sweethearts have left me long ago
and loved others fairer than i
so I do laugh bitterly at the cold winds
and am cross as the storm clouds pass by

you say you’re sorry for the way you treated me
and how can i not forgive
your eyes
and how can i not forgive
your arms holding me tight
holding me through the night

we talk for hours on end
but it’s cold comfort
cause i know that when we’re home again
you’ll have her
and i’ll be deserted in the sands
of good intent

all my failures sneak up on me in dreams
and call out old misgivings
but I have hope in the smallest idea
of bright luck and rearrangings

you say you’re sorry for the way you treated me
and how can i not forgive
your words
and how can i not forgive
your hands tangled up in mine
tangled through the times


mingling calls
laughter layered over salt water dripping down rouged cheeks
grey skies, pale clouds
whispers of loss emtombed behind crumbling walls
only the trees and i will hear your cries

but we have bandaged our wounds
if poorly
in hope

if i had one more day than the ones i have …

crackling fire
soft candlelight
carbon dioxide floating
burning wood and wax
say, something can be won

there is a searching man inside my heart
who enters this achromatic landscape
and buries his head in his hands one more time

the trees and i will hear his cry
the trees and i will watch his death
and i alone will search no more