Returning your worn shoes

Returning your worn shoes

And now I understand

Internal combustion 

And the lay of the land 

Beauty on the hillside

Butterflies in decline

Trampled footprints, feelings

Without an outward sign 

Having sidelined myself

Having sidelined myself

In this watercolor sky

Full of melancholy 

And no response to why

Shades paler and paler

Here where soft lines are drawn

Twilight into murky

Reflection into yawn

Looking past the weather

Looking past the weather

Rain cannot wash away

The soil on our soil, the

Stain and the raw decay

Greenland is raging red

Canada is fire hot

They are not for sale and

America they’re not

A sliver of the moon

A sliver of the moon

And a small patch of land

With a handful of wings

Longing for understand

Underneath a lonely

Streetlight with tortured moths

Confused into circles

In lieu of moon betroths

Smoke inhalation kills

Smoke inhalation kills

More than the fire itself

Crawling from LA to

The continental shelf

Playing golf in the south

Or skiing in Vermont

Ducking in doorframes in

Kyiv without detente 

Further and further out

Further and further out

From houselights to just stars

And blinking satellites 

Cruising like tourist cars

And far beyond the curve

Horizon everywhere

The uncharted island

Unloaded barrel flare