okay,

on derailment &other inconveniences

i don`t know why there were no names carved at the base of that trunk.
i circled it once, twice, three times: just to be sure.
i might as well have been a spotted barn owl, or rubbery fruit bat-
gliding back &forth, calling out to no thing in the night.
instead i landed in that tree`s tops, &climbed down to the ground.
[i have no wings, you know.]
&with heavy heart and defeated shoulders, trudged onward.

but my only question is this: isn`t there some one, some where, just trembling to sing?!

the long trail.

i'm having difficulty writing any thing of value as of late.
i suppose it is a good thing, though.
it gives me hours, days, &weeks to think, i suppose.
i do not feel very fruit-full, nor do i behave wisely.

someone just give me a pumpkin to carve all ready.

land-locked blues.

&i'm balancing history books up on my head,
but it all boils down to one quotable phrase:
"if you love something, give it away."