Gray Matter

I search for words and sparks
Through this sea of soupy gray
Turbulent in recent times
Dancing and darting wild

Someplace within the cortex
And these waves of memory
A picture tries to surface
Of a me that used to be

To the new me bring a cipher, song,
Or story to keep me warm
Flow to me before the muse
Into the vortex, too, is gone

Facebook

Something artificial to bring us near
Panacea for this cheerless age
I remember you from my last life
Check out my house, check out my wife
A bit more screen time does no harm
Let’s play some games and waste some time
When the pixels fade away
I will talk to you someday

Man Cannot See

He looks in the mirror
He likes what he finds
He looks to the future
And never behind

So much water to tread
So deep he could be
Who covers the distance
That man cannot see?

The swords fall from heaven
The angels all sing
A pallor of smoke
Just obscures everything

So much undiscovered
So far till he’s free
Who covers the distance
That man cannot see?

Game 1: Phillies

How satisfying it was to see the Phillies take Game 1 of the 2009 World Series, in Yankee Stadium, against the New York Yankees. The Yankees represent everything that’s despicable about modern day sports. The Yankees, who go out and buy championships (forty WS appearances in the past century); the Yankees, who spent a billion dollars on their new baseball palace; the Yankees, with Rudy Giuliani and Alec Baldwin in their stands; the Yankees, who represent all that’s opulent and overblown in baseball.

This is David versus Goliath in the sports world. David wins round one with a slingshot. David has mostly homegrown talent, with a few amazing acquisitions; Goliath, with its endless pockets, goes shopping for talent every year.

Cliff Lee was dazzling. He pitched a masterpiece. It may not be so easy for the rest who follow him in the rotation. But the way they are playing right now, the Phillies can beat anybody.

Game 1: Philadelphia.

Dreams of Freedom

Every day the shadow grows
People walk the streets in gloom
Maybe I should find someplace
Hide myself inside some room

My head is heavy with remorse
There is less to do and say
A lonely man, a wild horse
Since they took my wings away

The sun is out on the horizon
Church bells peal as she sinks low
They’re all I have to keep me going
These dreams of freedom that I know

This could be the end of time
The entire world becomes a cell
This could be the night to rise
The heat is rising here in hell

And far away the sea is sparkling
Upon an ocean in the west
My maiden voyage found no maiden
But she will come when I’m at rest

The sun is out on the horizon
Church bells peal as she sinks low
They’re all I have to keep me going
These dreams of freedom that I know

The sun is out on the horizon
Church bells peal as she sinks low
They’re all I have to keep me going
These dreams of freedom that I know

Given

I am not given
To gadgets and buzzers
Bright flashing lights
Vibrations and pulses
Time-bound contracts

Miscarriages of vital juices all

I am forgiven
To admire things of permanence
The mountains the oceans
Forgone conclusion
The unflinching eternity
Of your eyes

Athlete in Twilight (for Brett Favre)

The sun is setting fast
On this matador of Sundays
Time, a raging bull but
He took time to its limit
Time rebounds faster than flesh
In the dark room he reviews the films
His sinew, his stride, surely as smooth as it was a decade ago
No that could not have been a hitch, a falter
Everyone around him agrees
The contract agrees too
Final hours he wrestles
With legacy and limb
Keep on going keep on playing
Hunter’s moon is not here still