Labelled

Is it such a bad thing
In such a long run
To pick out one bad thing
After another

So easy to lose touch
Mostly fragile
Much too shy to say
Let bygones be

The pen now a crutch
For the clutch of sparrow-hawks
That chalk the inner walk
In place of open talk

The one bad thing
That led to another
Doubts intrinsically rose
One hope is to rediscover

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Come Back

Only if it could be said

If I could speak

With a clearer voice

I had a choice, always

But almost always

I was highly excitable

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Best Rest Yet

As if the resonance
Sounds that say
The blood is still filtered

The heart pumps to the brain
& tonight, all that is not forgotten
Can be laid to rest

As if some force or test
Surrounds our rights of way
That why with which we play

Those so dear to us, no fear
Even nearer
Doubt not, we did our best

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That Time

Draw down the night
In a room of mirrors
Paintings, furniture & lights

Let the lack of sight
Allow freedoms to wander
Free the mind to write

Of all the noises hereabout
Sounds drawn-down, quite
As if the inner world doth shout

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At Least A Billion... & One

Towards the sleep
Who knows who of you are sleeping
Not a peep
From those of you who love peeping

I take the giants leap
To the sleepers on the rail track
Learn to earn my keep
With the grim-reaper at my back

Towards the sleep
Who knows what secrets you are keeping
Not too steep
For the first, fleet-of-foot, past weeping

I take the minnows creep
To the quieter, dust and darker corner
Learn to slowly fall in deep
Become at one with the candlelit mourner

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