The unexpected bends
Sends my mind reaching
To understand false premises
Canned
How did it fall apart
Was it a small piece
Of a master plan
Built a 4 story house
On weak sand
How could this be
A fallacy I see
Under me
The sand gives way
Now do I ever really understand
Weaknesses of sand
I tried to compensate
What what too complicated
Frustrated
But we will move on
On
And on
Getting in at 3
Snow packed streets
Of a cheap
AirBnB
Parking in industrial lots
Making a bed a home
When we are on the road
Unknown
But not alone
Monday makes a good intro
To the new week ahead
Many miles on the road we left
Written songs all along
Sing out in hopes of the one
One more show
One more road to go
One more turn
We deal with the yearning
Of mind
But we stay committed
To our professional line
Hands held in jail
A simple wreck of proportions
Cell phone
Holding on
Through every bend
Like a contortionist
Careful time delegation
In a room of lavish embellishments
Awaiting
Through the gliding feel of the phone
Like a fresh shave in the morning
With force it reckons you back
To embark on internets past
Although you may reject its request for
Time and energy
You can not disagree
With the phones ability
To consistently
Win you back
It is a vigilant time apparatus
Strapped around your head
Walking through the muck
Of the walking dead
It’s valuable sensation
Is an impeccable sum
In the moments surrounding
The wild humdrum
I was sleepy I suppose
Doing some back breaking work
All my work at stake
A seat for my parched mouth
Upon the error
My own movements fascinate my mind
Yet I am one giant advertisement
So I drink in another night
Drink it in deep
Into the new morning light
A flat in Brooklyn
With walls thin
Above a Patisserie
Is where you will find
Her and Me
Where the Williamsburg Bridge
Ends
Take a bend
Up north
On the Queens line
But just before the
“Oy, vey” sign
We have found in this confine
We can shine
Breaking out of our old lines
For these poems
Will always remind
Me
Of our time
In Brooklyn
What we use
We gain
What we discard
We lose
What is lost
Can not be recovered
What can not be recovered
Is gone
Thai food and conversation
How we can make a living
Across the nation
Assemble the team
Pour the wine
Make plans over
The meal we dine
Not confined to walls
And labels
Working hard to live in the
Arts
Stable
WE ARE UNSHAKABLE
Committed and clear
We set our sights
To the heights
Of what we can reach
And hear
Back at the grind
Spending every second
Every dime
New York time
The city where surviving
Is never thriving
So I dive in
Start to swim
Through the thick and
Thin
Wake up
And do it again
The white table from Craigslist
Has earned it’s keep
In the apartment
A writers guide
To endorsing parchment
Upon it we have written songs
Lyrics
Poems
Its sturdiness is much appreciated
Anticipated
Held on
The white table
Is keeping on
Unequal substitute
Fulfills a desire though
With nothing to shoot
It is the Scarlet Letter of clothes
The melted plastic of Pleather
Adorned on shoulders and cars
Filling up the seats of old bars
Rather than take life of an animal
Smooth to the touch
Offering a little much
More than a substance
An idea
Pleather over leather
Not ideal, never
It start rather
A car revving it’s engine
We are not moving yet
But it is a much better bet
