Advice for Driving in Fog


Eye the painted white line on murky nights
it’s a story line, the best we can do, our small deeds.
And, most important, avoid overdriving your own headlights.
 
As a boy you sometimes galloped out of sight,
returned in river mud, as of a misdeed.
but now, you must eye the white line on murky nights
 
Remember when you were thirteen and Sherman Alexie ignited
your imagination? To me, you’re a rough and flowering weed,
but you have this tendency to overdrive your own headlights.
 
Accusations stomped out on floorboards make you uptight,
and those friends adrift can sometimes mislead.
Please eye the white line on murky nights.
 
You’re feeling down, but this is something you must fight.
When you laugh at me now, it’s like a hopeful seed.
Just avoid overdriving your own headlights.
 
Try to remember that summer you were firefly bright.
Use the memory to ward off some chemical need.
Eye the painted white line on murky nights
and do not overdrive your own headlights.




Icarus Fallen


They say reason resides in the arc of the sky
like father’s intellect, his craft, his confounding maze.
But it’s earth’s passions that claim us, cause us to die
 
They say I was always too easily bored, a sigh
and a grunt, as I grabbed for my fix. Always the haze.
They say reason is high in the arc of the sky
 
One day father shook me, said we would try
to escape, leave the king with his plans and his plays.
We never thought ecstasy would cause me to die
 
Those wings made of beeswax and wood let me fly
but soon turned to driftwood, afloat lonesome days.
While reason smirked down from the arc of the sky
 
Hercules found me, staged a goodbye
He was proper and just, lacked my cravings, my craze.
It was the salt sea that claimed me, caused me to die
 
Should I have tried harder to discipline my mind?
Heeded my father when he warned of the blaze?
Reason might have saved me in the arc of the sky,
but earth’s passions claimed me and caused me to die.