From the rough
Of the grass
Long and blowing
In the late summer wind
The fall
Is upon us
With its linear sunlight
And orange hues
Touching the changes
And nothing you can do
So the early fall
Sets like the Heather days
As the summer fades
Away
Totally
Known
In it’s totality
Will we ever really
Know
The truth
It was not the full
Onset of concern
That dawned on me
In the morning
It was the part
That imparted a certain
Uncertainty
So the fear came on
More gradually
Than before the time
When I felt like
I knew more
The bored groan
Emerges
From my soul
As the time lags on
Into what seemed close
Now just distant hopes
Of improving my life and circumstance
Maybe today
The hope is to breathe
And dance
An ambiguous shape
Of unknown proportions
World of unknown lies
My own distortions
Run through my head
As I try to make
Sense of the light
Passing through
My eyes
No one needs a sprout committee
Asking for the spring
In New York City
All we need is the time of year
My dear
If we fear each other
Than we do not grow
Fond of our differences
It is in the uncertainty
Of fondness that we are vulnerable
We let go
We listen
We grow
Let us not fear
Speak
Listen and
Learn
Dirty hand
Never quite know
That in the depths washed
You can not quite get all of the
Dirt
If dirt is on the hands of man
Whose hands toil in the dirt
No notice is paid
But on the hands of a banker
On the hands of a tycoon
We wonder
Where does this dirt come from
The dirty hands
That can’t be washed clean
Begin again
Again again
It all starts over
When you start again
But when you pick up
And return to form
You learn what you lost
And regain what you knew
So that in due time
You can see how you
Grew
I know it will all change
Places
Hands
Roomates
Tiny specks will remain
Of the neighborhood I knew
For just a moment
I was late to the party
Closed it down
What seems meaningless
Will be much more important to me
Miles down
The road
So this one goes out to the neighborhood
It was short
But it was good
A Cup of Songwriting 