Salt Water

 Yesterday was a poem writing weather day

 Counting deaths and getting in trouble

Dressing for work I put those words away

Later I just want to breathe, my friend

Erasing every letter to not send 

I'm running and it's so cold

Where did I go today? 

Whose face is this?

Feeling I'm not trying hard enough

Just giving in to stay so cloudy

Out on the water away into the air

Wishing I'd go disappear

Wish for Slow Time

Death comes wearing blue scrubs
To say the ambulance
Will take you to hospice
Around 4:30
What did you say?
At 4:30
They are coming
To take you to hospice
I'm going to hospice
So that means I'm dying
This is the end
Ok.

Tough Love

Sometimes the moon does go black

Clouds come so thick

It will never come back

That is how you are

You are dead to me

Maybe this is too harsh

So many second chances

Manipulated by a compulsive liar

Was there ever really hope

So many steps trip me

Part of me would like to

Go back in my life and erase

Everything that I ever

Wrote about you back then

But I thought it was real

It was just my imagination

But, boy, so much potential

Time crinkled that ideal up  

All of you we recognize today

Is how you duped us 

Your mom is dead and gone

Think this time might be best

Go dig yourself a deep hole

Crawl in and bury yourself

Spare us all the crying at your coffin

Pandemic Psychedelic Running Poem

It’s hot and summertime

No, wait, it’s only May

Not even summertime

Too many vehicles whizzing by

During this pandemic

I’m rolling easy to go so far

with harmonium and Kirtan beats

Trying to find the words to this poem

In the seeds on the grass

In the heat in the sky  

A voice and a ditch can throw you down

Leave you coming up covered in mud

Leeches and ticks don’t care

Sweat is the potion that separates

Then reconstitutes you

With everything that ever did breathe

Or didn’t or couldn’t

Or tried or lived and died

Dumped on top of the manure mulch pile

As tall as Paul Bunyan

Sitting there stinking and choking me

Finding these words in the runner's high 

Close to home my pace slowed

Too many trucks were pissing me off

It’s hot and only May

Not even summer, yet