The River

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A river has a beginning
And a spectacular ending
Dumped into a great expanse of an ocean

I have a beginning
But not sure of my ending
I took a charter boat up my river
But didn’t pay extra for a guide
Thirty years I have been rowing…
Exploring
Each bend of the river
Making camp on the bank each night

Every day as I make my way inch by inch
Down the river into each setting sunset
Nothing is ever familiar
That leads me to believe that I am headed in the right direction
Though I am not sure if I make the right decisions

I didn’t plan well for the journey
And am forced to live off the land
Fend for myself
And learn as I go
Cause one day the trip will end
Around the bend
In a glorious waterfall into the ocean
Hands held high with mist in the face
Or pulled under choking
Into a frothy chocolate rapid

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Memories of a Travel

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The pond is mine
The pond is hers
The pond belongs in the dirt
Big, blue and dirt

Scanning the sky
Chasing from the eye
Fast and quick against the horizon

With lemon-red phases
Laced with incandescent traces
Fade

Zipped patterns of unequal hurry
As lazy as summer
Slow as winter

Drifting across the pond

The pond that is yours
The pond that is mine

And a pond that now belongs in the dirt

Lemon-red squeezed and blue
Darker
Obsession in a beautiful painting
Never to reappear

Just gone, gone
Across that pond

Copper Rails

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The road was long
And even further when we looked back
Closer to family, but farthest we could be from it

The sunlight reflected off the copper rails
As it ran for miles beside us
Like a gentle parent
Tagging along
Guiding and directing

It ran with us
Across the bare topped mountains
Through the apple shed valleys
Skirting around fields lined with sycamores

And when it finally pulled away from us around six
No one really noticed but me

That days haze
Had gone its way
And only memories leaving the moment untouched

My face reflecting on the glass
I watched the suns eye racing us home

Tunes

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Tan sedan
A bulky box that contains magic
It sticks out the dash
And moves back and forth ever so slightly
Oh please love me tender and love me true
For I love you

Two fingers laying the needle down
Shag carpet and an orange colored den
Remember you and me?
Somebody done somebody wrong…

Button clicks
And brown tape jumps from wheel to the other
Quiet libraries and double decks
Squeaky chairs and blank cassettes
The DJ sucks, and it makes me sad.

Pulling out sleeves of poetry set to melodies
The rainbow surface displays my smiling face
And my t-shirt makes it like new again
As I rub it erases the imperfections and exposes mine
I need a raincoat and a phone call

Now no bigger than if it contained playing cards
But instead it holds all my memories
The original soundtrack of my movie
It hurts so good.

Prairie Dogs, 1986

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They popped their head in and out
Like a giant carnival game
Barking like dogs
but digging like gophers

They watched me drive by
Sitting upright on their haunches
They almost seem to know
That this drive was special

They still pop their head out to take a look
Whenever the sky is blue
The horizon is huge
And the red rock a perfect hue
When a car drives by
With the hand on the wheel of a small boy slowly learning to drive.

Facing the World

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When a raindrop is formed
Up in the sky
Does it wish it was bigger, faster or maybe had shine?

Does it form slowly
One molecule at a time
Without thoughts of fear,
anger and hesitation?

Or does it take its place
As if it knew its fate
And does not care
That the world looks scary from way up there.

Black Bag

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Black bag
Hangs from the top of the tree
Every day I pass it on the way to work
A year now
It clings through rain wind and cold
Sometimes I think I will climb up and free it

At some point it was grounded
As if to fly, it hitched a ride on a gusty day
Up it went
I can only imagine its pain to be captured only 30 feet away
Destined for the clouds
On the bony arm of the tree

Maybe I want to set it free
Because I identify