A SNAPSHOT

As days drag longer

Weeks and months conspire to crawl

Whither the ephemeral bliss

Served with courses of unending throes?

Whither the ambience of bellied crackle

The now familiar moans

Set aside for the honeymoon?

Mourn in your Tent, I'll frolic in mine

For so was it to be from the start

When the dawn wedded the twilight

OH! CYCLIC BLUES

Your season is here...  Again!

Same fangs; Same pang

This time simply be free

Ramp the Earth with your left toe

Let your index fingers graze the stars

Open the Treasure Box

Of fragmented memories

Memories of future un-furthered

And of children un-fathered

Memories of sixty grimy Crowns

And of seven pigeon eggs

From three truck loads

With a reckless Driver

Open the box of resonating sardonic

Some of gold, same as old

Some of clay and of thorns

Open the books let the driver be served

Let him glower or maybe cheer

Bear no grudges; Have no crushes

Whenever the firmament beckons

Just be ready