And I Wasn't There.

Well, time DROWNED the last drop of sand.

I drove fast,

I didn't look back,

they have become SALT.

In the dark morning there is a line,

a key:
"West Indian"

embossed.

When I dropped the key BACK INTO THE SAND,

a bell rang and vibrated like a rattlesnake.

The clouds were RED.

The drums banged

and held themselves in mid-air.

A sheriff is standing far away

Raises one hand,

flowers poured out of this HAND like water.

I looked again,

nothing there.

A skull in the sand.

Someone approached me.

Eve Marie Saint, is that you...

Doll, I DON'T

want to hear about how well Jacob is doing.

His ladder

was buried

and now the sand is asking for water again.

For a Girl

"It was our song"

She hummed with her pencil

about to dance

in yellow paper.

The sky shut

with a grimace,

to my dismay

and to everyone else

that really knew your name.

You ask me

what was wrong

love was behind

but where is the line

I don't think the

line

is really

traced

at this point of our lives.

But we

cannot help ourselves

indulged in love

we

take the line

and like a bind

we drown

ourselves

in a fuzzy dream.

Very bad,

life goes on

for an instant

Behind this rain lies a sunset,

wide and variegated.

And the thoughts

and memories

that are far lost

behind ourselves

we turn our backs

and sit on a train

and there is an outpour

raining, big dark clouds.

Fogged windows.

Paris awaits,

with a sun as big as our

souls.

We deserve the journey,

to wander in nature.

We never really allowed ourselves.

This is a process.

We're all learning.

"Life."

Miles, Cracks and Sunday Sand

Sad to see

or to say

I would

drink from a

beautifying

genius

plentiful

ocean

of vitriolic

waters

for you

for

anything

you have

poured

your eyes on.

The gold

that once

grew

from our trees

now

melts

down

a

fall

goes down

and crashes

I can't help

but feel sad

when the

white birch

bleeds red

when

the native

man

drinks

from the

wild desert

and falls in

the dry sand

in a crack

that wasn't there

the day before.

Sorrow For Two Voices

Thank you.

You held me around the square,

there,

as I began to think about spring as a kid.

Everything was warm and familiar.

It tasted like blueberry pies and

smelled like

rain on the ground.

There you were

not only around my ears

but around me

and again

I grabbed the guitar and

traded my bed for a pair of drums.

I have been

risen

ever since

inside of blues

and rock of

tender

glances.

There is nothing we can do.

We grew away and the wind carries our

bad thoughts

rather our

memories stay embedded in the heart.

Untitled

Sometimes the silver thread seems to

trace a bitter ground.

But I never stopped believing in myself.

I have not tasted wisdom from your grave.

But I have embraced wisdom myself.

I hold winter and autumn in my hands.

I have come to conceive hopelessness many times from the wings of a dove.

Carried through flames

jumping and coiling.

I'm there.

Sometimes I want to disappear.

Mother you have felt this.

There is a new sky for us,

beyond this mountains, a vast field

with green and oil.

flowers beneath a cascade,

warm air,

big sun.

We have to wait a little bit longer.

Stay with me as I will always need you.

These clouds that we are looking at today

Are not the same clouds that will carry us tomorrow.