A World, Too Fast [Common Meter]

I stand upon the cobbled walk
 as scooters whiz on by,
and think this world 's too fast for me,
 and tilt my face to sky.

But there's a contrail gash up there
 made by a hurtling sky-tube
that jets its way to who knows where -
 while I'm the slack-jawed rube.

To match the world to my breath's pace,
 and watch the blur lines form,
and hear each note of music played...
 We'd sync to my waveform. 

In Praise of Now [Free Verse]

Fast-forward to the end!
 Turn to the last page.

People want to know
 how it all turns out?

What lies in the 
 great beyond,
and what makes
 it so great?

What will rise to the top 
 of one's soup of possibilities?

But some little animal,
 crying in the darkness,
  doesn't want to be jetted
   to the end --
just so that it can know 
 that it all turns out okay.

It wants to slip into the now
 and wear it like a snuggy.

Moment Hunting [Lyric Poem]

Seeking perfect moments:

in times of bliss,
in times of pain,
in times of sanity,
and when insane

a divine meal,
a fine strong gin,
the kindest virtue,
a dark age sin

falling into never,
coming out the other side,
landing on one's skates
in the smoothest glide

falling but not crashing,
running but not gasping,
finding but not keeping,
fingers interclasping,

and wishing for nothing more.

Traveler Time [Free Verse]

I’m a traveler —
attached only to the place
tethered to my now.

That’s the only place
that exists in any real sense.

The past has no reality
in the present - not really.

It’s a ghost,
a dim and fuzzy figment.

Only thorns of the moment
can prick me.

Past disasters hold no sway,
future calamities are acts
of imagination.

The Melt [Common Meter]

Our lives are blobs that melt away.
You may not sense the drips.
It happens slowly; you may never
hear burbled blips. 

You may not feel that it's lighter,
or that it's lost some girth.
Because you've shed it gently each
and every day since birth.

And when you feel the withering,
will you take it as loss?
A good loss like becoming lean --
a skimming of the dross?

Or like a vicious theft of the
best parts of one's being: 
like time has grabbed the valuables
and taken to fleeing?

The melt will continue onward
until there is no more.
So, think yourself experience rich
though you are time poor.

Westward Run [Free Verse]

Put the sun at your back
run headlong toward the darkness.

Killing days at record speed,
leaning into the terminus,

and you wake up in the light
prepare for another westward run.

Heat Death [Common Meter]

A timeless time will come to be,
when all is uniform.
And nothing 's hot & nothing 's cold,
but all is just lukewarm.

So thank your lucky stars you've lived
in this age of bedlam:
when stars can shine and buildings rise
and we've cerebellums.

Horseshoe Bend [Free Verse]

I stand before a horseshoe canyon,
and it feels like the world
has folded back upon itself.

And I sort of like that idea.

There's too much emphasis on progress,
so maybe we need pockets of regress.

Not a full fusion blast of regression.
No one's calling for being battered back 
to the stone age.

Maybe, it'd just be nice to escape
the clarity of the watercourse way.

To be in the kind of place
where one has to drop a leaf
to know which way the waters flow.