Low Flying Bird

There is no final dance

No significant closing chance



Love and Passion

Just takes a bit of time

No looking toward the sky

For a fulfilling sign

I stretch the curtains

Of my wandering mind

I refuse to let go

Claiming there is a closing time

In my mind the scene changes

Arranges the lines around me

I hear that the weary word

From the wings of a low flying bird

Flapping wings unheard

We bend at the knee

To touch the ground cold

As I maintain my posture

But am getting old

There is no final dance

No closing notes

I will not hang my life work

On that whimsical hope



To each their own

Front page celebrity

To the wholly unknown

For me and my wife

Unbeknownst to us a home

Rather sips and gravitation on the road

Everybody has a home

I am told

Those with simple desires

Even those whose desires are

More bold

In New York City

Rather a pass through

Than a stable

I wish I could say it’s home


I am unable

So my heart wonders

From Oregon to the

Waters of Florida

I wonder if there is a place

Where our daily life is full lived

Rather than having it go through

The city sieve

No complaints

Restrain from bad words to give

It’s just my worried heart

Weighing out the negatives


The city Monopoly on top of me

Run me over

Push and topple me

The middle class is

High under siege

Who owns these buildings

I see

In front of me

Behind me

Who’s pieces touch the sky

Down to the ground

All around

The goal of surviving

Is miles short of thriving

On the ground struggling to breathe

Can feel like I am dying

Not on my death bed I am lying

To my soul

The energy it is supplying

Paycheck to paycheck

Account balance recheck

Food and meal not set

In a city with a finger


On my reset

Surely Uncertainty

Surely the uncertainty

Will certainly

Wear perfectly on

The real worthy


Confirming me


Putting me feet in front of me


There is a 1 out of 3


That whether we sing

Or dance

We will not have enough


To stash away

For the future

So we must take utmost precaution

With scalpel and suture

Sow our future

To know it can grow

And go where we hope it goes

Our future together

Must be stronger

Then when the wind blows

But truly

Who knows

Sympathetic Inflections

I am no controlled spirit

Untamed and overgrown

My emotions can be so

Easily swung

Not the words that I am

Proud of

Not in pride am I congested

When I am over zealous

My heart can be to little


How is it that the same tricks

With new names

Can catch a heart beat

All the same

If I could only go under cover

Into my own deepest detections

Pull out the weakest of



So rather than pick up

The pieces from hopes unmet

I could let my heart down easy

Lay it to rest gentle

While it’s quiet on the set

However my heart will wrestle me

At every turn

Up and down

It’s always involved

Every choice

All around