black pajamas
black coffee
and black cats
signs of another restless morning

how to capture
that magik of old
mix one part reality
with two parts pleasure
i think that’s the right equation

and i remember
folded grey matter
streaked across
lightly animated landscapes

notifications
empty bottles
run
is it inevitable?
some days i whisper dead street songs
hoping to feel immortal

passive and tragic we roam
with untold footsteps
far from home
coming to rest at a 24 hour diner
it’s almost deserted
and we are
best served 2 hours before dawn

spring circus
remembered like an autumn holiday
perceptions are a paradox
as we continually walk
in sacrilegious circles

no cash
overshadowed, overload
lament for the road
as hippies sing
for a stone cold
download

i love my long car rides to nowhere
forty-one miles
or was it
forty-one years
collected souvenirs

and out there
woman drive railroad minivans
contemplating the backseat burdens of life
as men dream of motorcycles
long legs and soft lips

i see all this youth around me
and i am
wild to the point of being crazy
yet the rain
is always the same

small disasters
quick to react yet slow to think
as red neckties and empty suits
serve to link
protocols and procedures
meant to hoodwink
searching for back doors and secret entrances
we are always slightly out of sync

wrapped up from within the heart
i’m stalling to avoid servitude
as steady voices chart
familiar paths of solitude

this dream, seems
to somehow persist
and i keep coming back to the spirit
of lazy revolution

passing between these hazy pages
with electric innovation
and an empty pen
i wonder what the face of god looks like
but more than that
i wonder
how shall i compose a theme?