No Clue Necessary

Don’t have a clue
what house the moon is in
let alone what Jupiter
or Mars are up to
but when she shines
so full and bright
I get a vaguely Aquarian feeling
peacefully harmonic
and whether it is unfolding
or folding the universe
is as it should be
as far as I know or care

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Winthrop Street

On Winthrop Street the loose cannons roll
the guardians collect the tolls
nothing glitters, there is no gold
keep a firm grip on your soul

The ladies there don’t really care
for idle promises or desperate prayers
they ain’t seen it all, but they’ve seen enough
on Winthrop Street they’ll call your bluff

The mayor avoids the neighborhood
he can’t do them any good
if he shows up they’ll get on his case
Winthrop Street laughs in his face

The lovers hide under the bridge
and it feels like a different world
the moon gleams on the dirty water
with its oily swirls
everything seems possible
in that magic hour
if you would escape Winthrop Street
love gives you the power

They have a strange idea of fun
you might feel safer carrying a gun
wipe of the fingerprints when you’re done
on Winthrop Street there’s no where to run

The sun don’t shine too bright down there
just too much smoke in the air
Hardly anybody has a minute to spare
on Winthrop Street it’s hard to care

The lovers hide beneath the bridge
and it feels like a different world
the moon gleams on the dirty water
with its oily swirls

Risky

Water and whiskey
are doubly risky
when you add a blue moon
and a mournful tune
and all the sorrow
in the known universe
fits in the back
of an average hearse

clouds like phantoms
in the ghostly light
guarding the secrets
of the night
and like angels dancing
on the head of a pin
lift you out of the
hole that you’re in

In the onslaught of beauty
sadness must yield
to the wonder and awe
you begin to feel
your soul fills
with what you see
in a moment perfect
as only moments can be

Routine

I know everything is different
though the routine is much the same
the differences are minute
hard to detect the change

I still look to the moon
high in the cold night sky
wondering where it all went
and asking myself why
another year largely wasted
watching things go by

thoughts that I can’t quite express
and music I can’t quite play
the need to continue trying
just won’t go away

So go ahead, time, keep rolling
the struggle will continue
God grant me laughter
at my mistakes
until my time is through

Soul Shiver

The distant cry
of the hungry wolves
under the cold moon
cannot harm us beyond
a shiver in our souls
still perhaps we should
stay inside lest they
be drawn close by the
smell of our fear

Or we could strive
for their friendship
with scraps in the yard
at the risk of going
hungry attempting
to satisfy their appetites
and knowing that

To err on the other side
of caution may lead
to a test we’d rather not take
so let us draw the blankets
close and gaze into the fire
waiting for them to fall silent
and how shall we sleep, then?

Sigh

Been talking to the moon
but I get no reply
I hear the branches rustle
I hear the night wind sigh
but the Moon, she will not comment
on these earthly goings on
she’s lovely, but she’s distant
as I wait for the dawn
she draws me like the ocean tide
keeping me in suspense
the thrill I feel is only
the echo of her silence

Do Over

The setting sun thumbs
its nose at the darkness
with a final burst of
color and light smugly
shouting, “top that, night!”

The night is cool
it calls and raises
a few thousand stars
and a calming moon
boasting its stolen light

On the fence between
passion and peace
the witness waffles
can we do it over tomorrow?