Spring 

Remember when we stood at the end of the world. We walked a lost forest. Then ran through autumn leaves. The God of Winter cried icy through the hollow trees. Only our thin wool to keep us barely warm we inched to the earth's edge. The God of the Universe turned us round and pointed us home. Past the tall, cold grass--against the cold prairie wind we walked closer to our family. They didn't believe a word their two children said--about what's at the earth's ends. The God of the Universe is our friend. The God of Winter cries through hollow trees. We said its not so far: just over the hill and past the prairie grass is the lost forest with autumn leaves that touch the world's edge. It was getting late, mother fed us. Father read us the bible before bed. That night I harvested a far away dream. In months, together once again, we shall journey to feel the warmth of a Godly spring.

Key Largo

Once I fell a sleep at a picture show

It was cold out, 

I had nowhere to go

It was late at night

There was no home

Just a nickel and an empty pocket

So I went to the picture show

The marque lights blinked like dying eyes

Yellow to orange, one after another

The hours of black and white 

The smell of old cigarettes 

This was my all night home

A girl without a glance sold tickets

The stale balcony was always closed

I sat in a crooked row

I heard the low sounds of muttering 

Bottles somewhere broke against the concrete floor

The whirl of 35 film reeled

Bogart smoked, Bacall should of broke

Key Largo on the go

The screen turned to a heavenly brightness

I saw scatterings of the theater crowd

Their faces appeared as they seemed

Some were awake, some asleep, 

These were different people

All alone

One man smoked... he crazy-smiled to himself

He was no Bogart, he had no Bacall

I grew more weary

I had nowhere to go

It was cold out

No nickel in my pocket

My eyes weighed as heavy as pennies

That's when I fell asleep 

I fell asleep,,,asleep in the picture show

Oh, no

Oh, no

Oh, no

One man watches another asleep in the picture show

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGftnl0KtUY

Never Been

Like being nostalgic for a place you've never been

Like reminiscing about people you've never known,

Nothing to hold back your longing dreams

Nothing to hold in place your wandering thoughts

As long as you can think you are free

As long as you can breathe the summer air

Some day your long, lost suffering will end

Some day you and me will go home to that place we've never been

Hold the people we've never known

Come down from the mountains

Walk the winter plain

Hold tight against the desert winds

Some day our long, lost suffering will end

Some day you and me will go home to a place we've never been

God of Rain 

We the crazed spirits in flight. 

Scared Banshees screaming through the aftermath. 

The man made fire burned the mountain forest.

A million trees, a billion branches.

Swallows taken to flight from the flames of fiery hell. 

Wailing animals seared into the dried tears of soil.  

Mad souls we floated between life and death. The smoke and haze filled our eyes. The charcoal trees felled. The mountain streams drowned in ashes. 

Don't you know what we're thinking? Us crazy banshees. 

Taking a vengeful shelter from these human forms. 

Electric company sparks burned this family earth. 

We fly high, scream to our God of Rain. 

Replenish the soil with your showers and hail. 

Replenish the the human form. 

We fly in screaming judgement. 

Our spirit instincts breathe the smokey haze of these man made flames.

So Say

Working a field I saw clouds like worn sleeves.

The sky as faded and frayed as torn blue jeans.

I lifted my sweat stained straw hat. Dried my head with a rhubarb red hand kerchief.  

My eyes blinded by the sun.

I raked the pebbled, sandy earth. Small clouds of dust rose to my knees and floated  to the ground. Autumn rain would fall soon.

A weariness walked the calloused prairie soil.

The boss would let us go home early. I'd leave my clothes on a lake's shore and swim across the water.  I would sleep naked on the opposite shore. By early morn I'd swim to my old work clothes. The sun would take time to dry my rhubarb red skin. So say to the field: I am late. But I am as wise as worn sleeves and as smart as frayed blue jeans.