Feel the rush
Concave up
Increasing in speed
Thrust and direction
As we subject
Our interjection
We rely on each other
That is how it is
And how it has to be
Subject to none
And discount free
Discount Free
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Tag Archives: New York City
Evening Light Protection
Straight lines of mint on county line roads
Staring out seeing dark tree shadows
Making their ways under sprinklers cold
Grass with a golden glow
Waiting the next rainfall or evening glisten
Animals waiting for exceptions
To sneak in under evening light protections
I see the evening run light rails
Hollering trains understated call hails
We wait the train coming out bustling
Heading winds with certain flow
The farms lull me to sleep
Eyes closed in summers keep
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
Transience the Commonplace
Transience the commonplace
It is the norm
In Brooklyn streets
Where people swarm
On Saturday night
Sunday evenings
We take part in these traditions
Going
Flowing
Rolling
As we make our way from place to place
Make our way out of Brooklyn
The next day
We will be back in Autumn soon
Under the NYC moon
Transient nights
Transient days
Transient travelers fill up
Fall out
And fill up again
We find ourselves amidst the flow
Going where the concrete goes
Back and forth
In between
We will miss the NYC scene
Little Words
Pack up the luggage
Keep a straight face
Back on the road
A musicians pace
Don’t take anything too close
Keep a little distance from the heart
Getting all involved
Will only make this hard
Little words with great meaning
We have to keep on keeping
NYC away we go
Be back when autumn rolls
For another winter lays ahead
Summers gone in the Midwest
We make our way from Brooklyn
To South Bend and back again
Tours ahead
Songs to sing and play
We look forward to being back in Brooklyn
On a beautiful autumn day
Constant Race
The constant race
Of the human race
Coming face to face
With realities
Of what will Be
What will not be
Committed to a community
Of people breathing and sleeping
Communicating all sensations
Of creations
Temptations
Frustrations
Sharing with each other
The ideas of lovers
People hate
Other continue to love
We work well
On a Wednesday swell
Of the city
On the ground
In the NYC Town
Birds in Brooklyn
I am happy to report
There are birds
In the trees of Brooklyn
Out the windows
Chirping at 6 AM
Heard through cracks
Walls and siding
Singing songs
All morning long
Happy little fellows
Outside the window
Just east of Manhattan
In the morning sun
In Brooklyn
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
Open
The spirit of the city
Over the east river
Sweeps us away
People relish their love
Openly
We are in love
With the open air
The city
The sky
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
