River Runner
river runner hat in hand
is this just a place to land
you were keeping score
now you’re sleeping on the floor
you roped the moon and rode the tide
you left blue eyes behind
did marquee dreams go black
you were never coming back
river runner don’t you know
its just a stone’s throw
from a soft summer breeze
to winter’s cruel freeze
river runner in this town
what goes up must come down
hey now you shooting star
who did you think you are
is this where you make a stand
river runner hand to hand
will you find a state of grace
in the years etched on your faceThe Last Graffiti Train
summer thunder on the frontier
a past life’s buried somewhere
8th street lace up boots
back when I loved you
when I loved you
a refugee on the fire escape
shed his skin like a snake
a spray can saint in the poring rain
blessed the last graffiti train
up on the roof London Calling
downtown stars are falling
I loved you in your rags and jewels
your kings, clowns and fools
in your cathedrals on Canal
I became what I am now
you live now in a photograph
in the present and the past
summer thunder on the frontier
a past life’s buried somewhere
8th street lace up boots
back when I loved you
when I loved you
when I loved youRed Shoes
no trouble no cares
I’m going where
indigo skies
are calling me
where mile markers rise
and fall away in time
in Arizona sycamore
and Pinyon Pine
I’ll resurrect my red
shoes from the dead
for a dance never danced
for words unsaid
I’ll gather up my stones
and every trick I know
like a falling leaf
I’ll let go
young blood you could never see
how the wind blows
where the road goes
young blood you’d be me
no troubles no cares
I’m going where
indigo skies are calling me
where mile markers rise
and fall away in time
in Arizona sycamore
and Pinyon PineSummer of 65
mother hung the washing
in the summer of sixty five
father packed a bag
how will we survive
brother joined the navy
and skipped like stone
he never dropped a line and couldn’t find his way home
sister’s gone to Allegheny
on the Erie River Line
nothing left to lose
no one to leave behind
and kindness lives alone
on a street without a name
and I feel small and empty
like a whistle lost it’s train
same old prayers
same old pots and pans
the days die hard
and the years slip thru my hands
and the cold wind blows
high in the sugar pines
as sure as the dawn
as sure as the blood that binds