White marble walls
Clad with grey lines
Sign of the times
Good and indifferent
All in one place
Easy love
Slow pace
Coffee ground
Into finite matter
In the cup
And on the platter
Can we define the future
Decide with knife and suture
What will be remembered
And forgotten
Is the past obsolete
Or a defining feature
Of what growth must be
Debating
What will lead us forward
Or what holds us back
Can we define the future
And be so matter of fact
Some will be dismissed
Some gathered
My own mind
Would rather
Be in the moment
And experience reality
Not technology
Depressions ridden
Alphabetically
Future
Or
Past
What will go
And what will last
Burning bread
Morning doors
Open
Waiting for change
Momentum
Healing the wounds
We have made
And open
Burning bread on
Tuesday morning
Jade of the 60’s
Green in its glory
Floral wishes
Morning territory
A jade in the grass
Amongst the leaves
Of history and preset
Present hope
To find the jade
Lost entirely
Lost amongst the years
And in the crest
Of the oldest tree
Rainstorm sips
Over
Easy
Good to the last drop
Hold the foam
Take away the unknown
Chicago roads
Wet concrete
Bibles
Lay open
On the streets ahead
The lightening pole
Directed to hold
The energy
Hope of a strike
Powered lights
On a Sunday night
Abyss of a city
Slow moving
Growing in every
Moment
An inflamed wish
In flames
Of fury
Worried
The news coming through
Is not the hopes
Of the everyday
Joe
Hold the wish
Step on the applause
Coming out of the broken speakers
Tweaking our numbers
To create magic
From a life turned
Tragic
32 on 32
Bottom of the cup
The ball rolled
Into an ironic
situation
Destiny
Or stranger than that
Holding on to my golf hat
I scratched my head
Did that the number revealed
Happen
32 on
The last day of 32
Birdie
Eagle
Was the way
It played out
On a sunny Saturday
Cold grass
Bent under my feet
As I walked off the course
That day
Baltic blast
With a cup
Of tea
Through the glass
How the world spins
Through a moment
In a time when
The moments equal
A moment less
Hopeless
Baltic winds
Over a sea of Glass
Sink or quit
A conundrum
Of the lightest bit
To go down quick
In the flames of memory
Or slowly
To a bottom toll
I hold my hope for a new life
A new goal
