The stars were all but hidden, we could see the Harvest Moon.

The greyest clouds, a pale blue, the sun an orange balloon.

Was quiet in the meadow and no city screams to hear.

There is something sweet and silent in this changing of the gear.

There are wonders and they happen, right before our eyes.

Now I’m tired and I’ll go to sleep cause that would seem so wise.

The Distance overtook us.

Was a blessing mixed with time.

Those feelings all subsided

Except the lying/judgment/crime.

I don’t dwell unless I’m writing.

Even then the words just flow

I could search here for forgiveness.

Sad but true and I don’t know.

The poets and the painters were breaking bread at dawn.

There were memories to last a lifetime, but all the love was gone.

The parties had all started the way most these things begin.

Paul was looking for a lover and Vincent brought the gin.

Mary Shelley brought old Frankie, who couldn’t last the night.

When Claude caught a glimpse of him and was blinded  by the sight.

Blake was drawing demons from these visions that he had.

Walt looked up from leaves of grass and thought they weren’t to bad.

Oscar slung some insults, his wit caused smiles and some pain.

And George dropped by as Mary, and now Mary is happy again.

Her words were all confusion.

Her drama was the lead.

She confessed with some delusion.

Sides of saliva, spit and bleed.

I wasn’t getting any younger.

I had heard it all before.

In the court they tried and hung her.

I couldn’t listen anymore.

I left, am not returning.

There’s a lesson I have learned.

I’ll be minding my own business.

Fooled once and twice be burned.

I was tired from the outset.

My brain had just shut down.

We were waiting for the time change.

All the warmth had just left town.

I was living near the freeway..

With small beds of memory foam.

There was nothing to remember.

And no hair was left to comb.

When I tripped on your umbrella

You were huddled under rain.

I was hungry and delirious

I was buckling from the strain.

Then this sound that was like singing.

Sounded like a thing that you might keep.

And I faded off to dream world.

In a deep and monstrous sleep.

I

All quiet Monday Morning.

The air is still and cool.

It must be mid September.

Time flies, it is the rule.

They said we’re promised nothing.

I wonder how they knew.

To believe so much in flying time.

Was it meant for me or you?

The Unknown is a bastard.

In the shadows of the morn.

The used to be much larger.

When I was barely born.

The Unknown are surprises.

No preparing will suffice.

If the sun at east she rises.

You’ve a chance and don’t think twice.

There is spittle and there’s spittin… They be pointing at some heads.

They be spinning and be fumin.When the natives off his meds.

He is mad and he is large. He is all angry, dressed in yellow.

He is quiet, then he is loud. There’s no mistaken that’s the fellow.

He be angry, he be mean.  When he argues, its call the feds.

Because no one wants to deal with that man who’s off his meds.

There’s a space in the upstairs bedroom window I leave open; big enough for Ned the cat to jump in and out as required. This was not designed for Ned… I like the fresh air.

I wake up before the alarm now most mornings at 6 and feed Ned.

Ned is in now and asleep on the most comfortable chair downstairs. He reminds me of me in my teenage years and 20’s: up all night sleep all day, have someone feed me and gone again… don’t pay rent.

She will be awake soon and she will say that Ned is hers…

She will go to school. I will write and Ned will sleep intermittently.