Pining for pinnacle

Pining for pinnacle

Unsatisfied base camp

What is above the clouds

A pure purpose or stamp

Growth feeling incomplete 

The sharp pointed pin oak

Wanting for greater round

The wheel and not mere spoke

The golden light is here

The golden light is here

The unwatched time ladled

Given in a breached rush

Unbreakably cradled

Tinged in melancholy 

Reminder of breathing 

Wisdom wet paint again

Composition teething

Can you hear the ocean

Can you hear the ocean

It’s under our same sky

Shall we surprise it with

A youthful step and eye

I will always help you

A potter’s cup with rain

Look, the soil is changing

From brown earth into grain

Standing on a hydrant

Standing on a hydrant

And feeling eight feet tall

Staring like a statue

Into the great time wall

Prisoners, MIA

Weeping for the soldiers

Vietnam casualties 

Heavy on my shoulders 

The pylons are falling

The pylons are falling

Conversations repeat

Our words without guardrails 

Loosely in the front seat 

Darkness is descending

Restless legs are pumping 

The battery and bruise

The four wheels are jumping

No break in the storm clouds

No break in the storm clouds

Are they from thirty-nine

How have we allowed this

When we had every sign

Hatred in a heyday 

False narratives prevail

Diversity in camps

A wanna be they hail

A yesterday again

A yesterday again

The clouds and light the same

The music echoing 

In some faint lost refrain

So many souls alive

Across these years now lost

Their hearts are in me both

As tattoos and embossed