Untitled #3

The promised land
Falling through your hands
Undone in sorrow

Restless in the wildest way
Cursed with a thousand stories
Streams refill their beds

May you always find an open hand
In the land of milk and honey

May you be taken by the wind
With one night to speed up the truth
And call for hands from above, to lean on

The melody that rises and falls without you
Dances scarlet in the streets
You gave up your shovel to dig with a spoon

Don't grow older just finding your way
With a fist full of wishes
And a hand full of hopes

Sojourn

turning the lights to a shivering down
the heat of growing cotton
telling of the trials of farming in maximum exposure
laughing at the details of his current novel
so voluptuous...

she used to teach you know, college level too
barely finished high school and she ended up teaching, funny thing that
wondering at the task of home spinning
the harvesting is such a trial
not fit for man or beast the suffering is that great

one hand over the other crossing and resting at the same time
from a position of power to where power rests
the symptoms captured in his mother's memory
she was as strong as any man on the farm
she would eat as much, and work just as hard