Flames trailing flaring
fender. Accelerator
down, slicing the wind.
fender. Accelerator
down, slicing the wind.
Still…
“Travelling South East Asia,” he said
“You’ll wake up every morning
And have no idea
What the day will bring.”
Where the sounds of water
Lapping at your canoe
The trill of a loon
And a child’s laughter
Splashing in the lake
Become a presence
Getting there
To a place without feeling
I find a wasteland of being
An emptiness
In the midst of plenty
No. No, no.
Divine
I mean divine.
On a calm, breezeless evening
Not even a shimmer on the reflecting pond
My mind drifts
With the passing of time
As if it were
A theme park ride
And it is