probably not
the right time
or the right
place
slow down at
the sign
but he should
pick up the pace
is he all right
going the speed
he is at
not thinking
all night
occasionally
wondering that
might destroy
him with words
start from the
end
finally enough
strength to
corner the bend
in the river or
was it a road
still such a
mystery
without a cheat
code
red tin with
smoke
bag of books on
his back
if he was
leaving
he wouldn’t
even pack
for the ride
he has enough
in his head
he doesn’t move
fills more
books with
thoughts instead
Aztec blues
two four two
choruses long
remembering the
day
he thought he
wrote a song
never found the
tune
in the dark of
the sky
never found
himself
until above the
clouds high
mind spring up
someone wants
to read
how does a
stranger know
exactly what he
might need
a smile and her
eyes
he’s lost and
she is far away
what new
thought
will make the
feeling stay
long enough to
enjoy
analysis is not
a strength
the road is
winding and bumpy
he doesn’t care
about the length
of the days or
nights
it’s all the
same
patience can be
loneliness
by another name
beads worn
color
less radiant
than the sun
thinking on ‘what’s
the deal?’
this pen it
weighs a ton…
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