While The Getting Is Good

It may seem to be at the end

And it may seem to be forlorn

Has it not seemed this way before?

Experiences weigh like on a scale

More and more likely to tip the balance

But is not each moment on a razor’s edge,

a blink away from being this or that?

Indeed.

And it is the this or that that worries you

and me

Worn out shoes

                Worn out shoes

                Weary walks, weathered thoughts

                There’s wisdom in worn out shoes

                To be worn is to be used

Poems

Heat Dome

Lord knows when the rooster crows

The sun is upon you

And mid-day gives way

To a fainting few

So we fight, fight for the night

So that we might have a few

Moments to rise and fall in an unstrangulated way

And just be cool at the end of a dying day

***

Funny Hats

Funny hats upon our heads

Put the humor in our hearts

Don’t take them off for fear they may part

This bond between you and me

Tenuous it may be

Maybe it’s why we have funny hats

You and me

-This Progress-

-This Progress-

Not so much a battle as it is a war

Turned upside down and inside out

Like blood, guts, and gore

-They call it progress-

It’s not like it used to be

A pecking order based on might

Has been replaced for the thing that is right

For whom for whom for whom?

Did you take longitude into account?

Me thinks we can’t let this play out

-This Progress-

Jeers jeers jeers from every row

“Have you no compass for these things you know?”

And then with mirror held high I asked

"When were you assigned teleology as your task?"

…her reflection slumped in a very grey light

And again the fire question bloomed

For whom?

-This Progress-