When tales of woe come tripping by
And foes called friends decide to lie
Amid this sound I stand aside
And wonder why I have not cried
...
The lost willows and osiers, were once
A shady home for dragonflies.
Now, the emptiness is palpable.
As it always does, time has passed,
...
I came when the sun was low in the sky
I nestled among the dry bracken and moss
I waited till the full moon rose in the East
I floated up as smoke from a fire
...
Did that just happen?
Was I mackerel smoked and dusty?
I feel that the crusted, gnarled, and road eaten Shoes that cramp upon my feet are enraged and
dissident.
...
An old man, not intellectual, occasionally having deadwood of the past drift by me.)
Viscous Thoughts
When tales of woe come tripping by
And foes called friends decide to lie
Amid this sound I stand aside
And wonder why I have not cried
The other day I fell through sand
When tripping in another land
It was not me I failed to see
But visions of deformity
Perhaps I should with haste return
To where my childhood thoughts still burn
But what good pray would that achieve
I know I'd only want to leave