Atlas at last
To pay attention to the wind
And the grass
The world as we see it
Needs us to step up
To be what we can potentially be
A source for good you and me
So look at the atlas
And know
This world is ours to save
Or ours to throw
Dear deer
As you walk over the street
Remember that what you
Can not see
You must hear
Or walk faster
Deer
There he is
Green eyes lit up
Hovering in my studio
Watching my every move
Judging
Controlling
Asking
With no answers
A wry smile
Because he knows
What he costs me
Sleepless nights
Staying up late
Baggy eyes
While his eyes fixed
Unshaken
By reality
Or importance
The dollar man tears me apart
With his weight and indifference
How can it be
The shade of green so pale
That he controls so much
The dollar man
“I will FUCKING KILL YOU”
The words bellow from the belly
Of the loosely dressed man
On Manhattan Ave
Across from Manhattan Inn
Enough vigor and resolute
To carry the words to my own
Windowsill
I crept to the window
The man seemed unwell
Ill
I couldn’t make it out the clear
Words strung about a 100 bill
–
“Why don’t you come over here”
“See who the real man is”
The street lights illuminate his
Contorted face
I pull back from the window screen
He glances in my direction
As he walks towards Manhattan Ave.
And Nassau intersection
–
I am fully engaged at this point
This rage within this man
Has the whole neighborhood up at
2 AM
–
Cars rumble past blurring
What was said
What was heard
I could only faintly here but a word
All this rage and anger
Over a C note
On that note I better get back to bed
–
Whatever he had said
It was life in the form of entertainment
I am not upset from the loss of sleep
Just tired
Whatever kept that man up
Had really shook him
On just another night
In Brooklyn
I must muster words
Valuable clusters
From one to another
Musings of intrinsic value
Delivered proper
Over rather than under
These sweet words
I hope to utter
The isle of the store
From ceiling to floor
Packed with all the goods
One would ever need
I revel in it’s mystery
Standing alone
Overwhelmed
I will never full understand
The grocery store
Just leased out our place in NYC
The album takes first place
Homelessness ensues
Chaos long overdue
But for the sake of the art we let go
Take control of our creation
Letting go of a constant state of consistency
Not much to envy
High hopes for distinctions unknown
We just let up
And let go
Sometimes the mind
Gets worn in
Dwindle thin
Leaving nothing behind
But rags and turpentine
Yet I find time
To be renewed
Unwind
Start the clock over
Begin again
Damp stillness in the Hudson Valley
Rocks broken
The cold ground
Swirves so violent and gentle
The Tectonic is avoided
Longer paths are better enjoyed
20 minutes from civilization
But 2 hours from the city
In the studio
Committed and gritty
On a Friday
In the August blush
The lightness of air
Held from highest peaks
Falling soft
On my face and cheeks
Holding air light
In lungs tight
I can only have moments
Which are
Never enough
A Cup of Songwriting 