Hand Smoked Heat

Back to Chicago

Toll road to the city strolls

Winds blowing street tires

Filled with air pushing forward

The trips become a frequent chore

We open doors to adjust leather seats

Broken in and ripped

Hand smoked heat from summer shores

Semis headed off to 94

As we head for Lakeshore

Same city

Same sound

Familiar from the skyline to the broken ground


My first city

Lake Michigan shores

We head back once more


The Blowing Lark of Winter

Stay inside

There is a storm out there

Blowing winds so cold

It will shrivel your fingers

I am told

City in chaos

A driving ban

Amongst all of this

How could we plan

Just about one thing

I never seen anything

Quite like this

The blizzard of 78


When this storm hit

Apocalyptic winds

Hustle over the earth

Creating a sense of unknown

In darkness so cold

In the air you hear the raging sea

Even though the sea is

Nowhere near me

Or you

We stay locked in doors



With the blowing lark

I am amazed at this


And in awe

None of us saw this coming

None at all

But here is this storm

This beast

This apocalyptic creation

Bearing down hard

On the Hoosier nation

From Chicago

Down the South Shore

We have seen snow

And more

More more

Sleep well rested

While the buildings foundation

Is tested

We stay covered

We stay alive

This is the most violent wrath of winter

I have ever seen

The January winter

Of two thousand

And fourteen