There is no rush of words

There is no rush of words

Such incomplete phrasings

And scattered detached thoughts

Undigested grazings

Empty periscopes or

Archeology dig

Perhaps it's time to plant

When there's no sign of sprig

Allowing exceptions

Allowing exception
Can make the difference
Regardless if it's not
The common preference

Little variations
Makes the world different
And possibilities
Endless and infinite
 

Not mathematical

Not mathematical
Not found in calculus
Or beads on a wire that
Slide on an abacus

There's no equality
Or fabulous balance
No math to speak of in
Affection and talons

Nothing left to be said

Nothing left to be said
The well of words gone dry
Autumn trees, winter fields
Or the moonless night sky

Remnants of my own voice
A chorus, a refrain
Grow paler each echo
Across the same terrain

Born in Marietta

Born in Marietta
Along the Ohio
Moved to White Plains outside
New York City's metro

Then to West Virginia
And Toledo's Northwest
NYC called again
Then Ohio to nest

Another place and time

Another place and time
Completely uprooted
Yet the life we lived there
Cannot be disputed

They say it's another
Chapter or even book
But still from time to time
We go back for a look

Our ancient history

Our ancient history
Written on passing winds
Thoughts have evaporated
Once filling up our brims

The fury and fever
Are now read like cold facts
Both sides surrendering
Under self-imposed pacts