Drive my Car

Fear can drive us to Nirvana

To meet its family there

A bevy of confusion

Of noise and rancor where

A sense of hesitation

And judgement all appear

Affect my self-direction

And pierces like a spear

Too long for just a ride home

Before I was brought here

In vehicles of splendor

By driver who was Fear

Still, seems that Fear departed

The family disappeared

And all the noise and rancor

Is in the rear view mirror


Service at Harper’s

They were having a service at Harpers.

It’s about a block down from the community church.

The spirits flow freely there

And Honesty often erupts into a fight.

Twelve pickups and a few SUV’s

make an interesting congregation.

And each confession concludes with the listener’s exclamation of “No Shit!”.

And the man with a broken smile and dirty hands says, “Another round on me.” So the ex-football player with the white SUV knocks him off his stool until the bartender steps in and reminds them of their long friendship. Soon the shouts die down and Willie Nelson keeps playing on the juke box and two by two the patrons leave affected by the preacher’s words.

Winter Sacrifice

The cow trundles through the diamonds

It Seems the fence was lowered by the old tree some time ago

Now To be cut up into manageable pieces

For the hearth and stove on cold nights

And the sweet scent of smoke will rise

To join the clouds and roam the earth

Just as the cow

Old Vintage

Yes, a Spirit of the past.

Her number tells me so

Born in the flow of the Garonne

Still, quite hot that year

In Paris many perished

Unprepared for breathless heat

Still, the scent of moist evenings

And the warmth of those days

Swirls in the glassy

brown eyes of the young serveuse