Getting in at 3
Snow packed streets
Of a cheap
AirBnB
Parking in industrial lots
Making a bed a home
When we are on the road
Unknown
But not alone
Monday makes a good intro
To the new week ahead
Many miles on the road we left
Written songs all along
Sing out in hopes of the one
One more show
One more road to go
One more turn
We deal with the yearning
Of mind
But we stay committed
To our professional line
Winter storm roads
Up North we go
Winter Storm Jonas
Feared on the road
But here we depart
Living in a hotel is an art
A unity car
My wife
And I
He was a polite General
In a dirty fight
Won’t ask too many questions
Making sure his men were alright
He would stop into the local shop
But keep all conversations brief
Man of few words
Nothing left to waste
Keeping his work straight in time
He would handle even a bumpy road
Or the occasional attack
With no weight but his country
On his back
He would nod his head and thank
His fellow men
For the life they lead
With an extention of his hand
He was a man nondiscript
Defined by action
Rather than inaction
Hands held in jail
A simple wreck of proportions
Cell phone
Holding on
Through every bend
Like a contortionist
Careful time delegation
In a room of lavish embellishments
Awaiting
Through the gliding feel of the phone
Like a fresh shave in the morning
With force it reckons you back
To embark on internets past
Although you may reject its request for
Time and energy
You can not disagree
With the phones ability
To consistently
Win you back
It is a vigilant time apparatus
Strapped around your head
Walking through the muck
Of the walking dead
It’s valuable sensation
Is an impeccable sum
In the moments surrounding
The wild humdrum
I was sleepy I suppose
Doing some back breaking work
All my work at stake
A seat for my parched mouth
Upon the error
My own movements fascinate my mind
Yet I am one giant advertisement
So I drink in another night
Drink it in deep
Into the new morning light
25 hour car ride
The earth to my right side
Passing trucks to the left
I won’t attest with my old ride
Making our way to the Florida coast
Racing trains
Down the eastern seaboard
Catching cheap hotels
So we can
Sleep more
Passing through Raleigh
And Jacksonville
Some good moments
Some are just a force of will
Highways full
Unable to sit still
From the borders of NYC
To easy coastal city’s
Southern bound
Through America the Pretty
A flat in Brooklyn
With walls thin
Above a Patisserie
Is where you will find
Her and Me
Where the Williamsburg Bridge
Ends
Take a bend
Up north
On the Queens line
But just before the
“Oy, vey” sign
We have found in this confine
We can shine
Breaking out of our old lines
For these poems
Will always remind
Me
Of our time
In Brooklyn
What we use
We gain
What we discard
We lose
What is lost
Can not be recovered
What can not be recovered
Is gone
Thai food and conversation
How we can make a living
Across the nation
Assemble the team
Pour the wine
Make plans over
The meal we dine
Not confined to walls
And labels
Working hard to live in the
Arts
Stable
WE ARE UNSHAKABLE
Committed and clear
We set our sights
To the heights
Of what we can reach
And hear
Back at the grind
Spending every second
Every dime
New York time
The city where surviving
Is never thriving
So I dive in
Start to swim
Through the thick and
Thin
Wake up
And do it again
A Cup of Songwriting 