Educated from the Ill-Fated​

Don’t wait to return

Educated from the ill-fated

Decisive ability to divide

Than to unite

A tenous copper pipe

Winding through our hearts

Off we go




The hills

Way above the city

Where the dense fog lay

Is a town

Sleepy and slow

With shadows over the town

Trees and roads

Wind carelessly

Through hills and valleys

We rest upon these hills

And regain


Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.

Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Round the Corner

The simple smell

Can trigger so many memories

Roasting coffee

In Williamsburg

Takes me to years

On the road

So fresh and clean

Yet Smokey and full

The roast roars our into the air


And bringing back

Memories of good times

Day to Be

The coming days to be

Letting go of what was familiar to

You and me

A city

A life

For bigger and better

Discoveries and journeys

Letting go

While others hold so tight

That they squeeze the life

Out of the joy

Thy love

And love left

It will be

Delays in Night


Unfettered display

Of reckless disregard

On guard

Words with no meaning


Backward leaning

Back in the night

When the sun lies low

That is where the weak prosper

The forbidding go

Be Gone Bygone

Be gone

Bygone era

Let go

Of the past 

Open a new future

I want not vintage and old

I want to grow up 



Let go

High Times



Ask questions

What takes time

Has time to grow

Waiting for high times

The world we know

Holding hands and making plans

For the uncertainty of life will not own


While we prepare ourselves

For the high times