The old fears
Dried up tears
Move up
Move out
All the changes happen
In specific time
And moments
We remove ourselves
To see the grand scheme
By it doesn’t mean a thing
When your heart is torn
The size of an almond
With a personality the size
Of the room
Our small dog
Named Wilco
May have a small heart
But fills the room with love
When anyone walks in
Sweet little Wilco
A fine day
Is coming
When we believe
Not in celebrity
But in each other
That day
Is coming
One fine day
A great day to get out
My birthday is a day
To celebrate a new schools
Of voices rising up
In a dark time
So that in due time
We will have hope again
Such a coincidence
But on March 24th people rise
Up
To believe again
That we can all accomplish something
With the help is our fellow
Countrymen
Can the future be brighter
If the past is not reckoned
How to know where to go
If we do not understand
What we have done
My role in this nowness
Is key to the future
I have played my own role
Ambivalently
But with more passion we approach
The future
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.
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
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
Aggressive
And bringing back
Memories of good times
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
Fears and hope
All mixed together
In on moment
Of letting go
Growing Up
Not growing old
Ride the train home
When the timing is just right
So the doors will open and
Step into the night
