Continual Postage

Continual postage

Send me on my way

Held back

Deferred another day

What can send me out

Into the world

Hurled out with no precise measure

Regardless of challenges or pleasures

This will be my postage

Paid upon sending

I have paid it due

For once my stamp is applied

I must see myself through

Relative Hesitation

The slightest hesitation

Bound up in eternal


One moment later

Can be a true difference maker

When realizing what will be my mark

Leftover when I am through

Will I have waited

For some long awaited hopes

Or woken at dawn

To climb the morning ropes

Destiny has to relation

For those caught up

In hesitation

Off the Cusp

Rock and roll

Get ready to go

Living on the farm

Just east of

South Bend, IN

The nights we pull

Playing bass going low

Making coffee with the morning

Singing songs

All heard and warming

92 degrees

No sight of water or seas

Here in Indiana

Summers warming up

On the farm

Living just off the cusp

Distant Bleach

The smell of distant bleach

On fresh cleaned linens

This is the hotel room

That we will attempt to live in

Faded carpets with old stains

Attempts to clean them

Have obviously gone in vain

Paisley and plaid hung drapery

Old recliners

While we make our escape

From the city

Old cigarette stains

Outside the door

From someone long before

Shower curtains white

Fluffy and snug

With clean towels hung

Next to the rug

Life lived in hotel rooms

Find a different way

Of saying hello

Enjoy your stay

The Dust Migration

How can dust exist in such plethora

Consuming humans in black filth

Penetrating apartments with stealth

What is the creator

The destroyer

Yet it plooms from every

Vehicle brimming black and burdened

From the backs of trucks

Tossed lightly into the air

To begin it journey

Destination unknown

Yet it flies just softly enough

Through the screens

Into our homes

Where it land

Collects friends

Possibly propagates

Until we have the motivation to cleanse

Purging our home from such creations

Out the shoot

And back into the circle

Of the dust migration

Minutes take Seconds



So much is at stake

Minutes take seconds

To change

In one instant

The hard work

Begins to rearrange your life

New opportunities await

Challenges left hurdled

In your wake

Do not sleep past the rising sun

The morning calls

Opportunity calls




Karaoke Warfare

Between me and you

I want to know

Who can sing the blues

No care for stories or background

Just the way your voice sounds

So sweet is the irony


Back when the blues were constructed

Even now as the legends are being inducted

To the halls of fame

There story was never boring

Never quite lame

The story of these greats

Could make you pause

Even wait

To hear the next lyric

The next verse

To know what adverse

Conditions these men and women faced

We can not reduce this music

To technicalities and perfection

It has been hard born

Since the moment of its inception

I see the value in entertainment

But its straining my understanding

Of what music is

So I fall back to some classic blues

Stories from long ago

And I remember

That music is the sound

That makes life


Scholastic Skies

Scholastic Skies

Stare over Brooklyn

Built with math and arithmatic

Particular attention

To each inch and yard

Stretched in the air

So pretty

Built with human hands

This is

New York City

Calculation Mishandled


Mere asthmatics

Done on fingers




One off

Two down

Now the implied

Does not have solid ground

How could I have mistaken

Forgotten or impatient

I must re-add

Multiply then subtract

Look for signs of hope

Continue to go forward

Rather than look back


Delays come in Every Shade

Delays come in Every Shade

Delays come in every shade

Some unintentional

Some man made

Waiting for the right time

Can be a distraction

While the postponing real resolve

Leads to the utmost dissatisfaction

Running around to wait

To see

To be there

When you need to be

Yet can all be delayed



At some point

When the bags are packed

Forward progress has begun

And no looking back

Free yet cautious

Conscious decisions made

For not one more day

Can I be delayed