Now that it’s officially Winter,
the snow’s falling fast outside
as the wind blows hard and cold.
Not much is going on here—

The snow’s falling fast outside.
Tea is brewing;
not much is going on here—
We make up stories to pass the time.

Tea is brewing,
French toast is fried up.
We make up stories to pass the time;
we bundle up warmly.

French toast is fried up
as the wind blows hard and cold.

We bundle up warmly 
now that it’s officially Winter.

I feel like an alligator since I heard the fatal news.

I want to swim away in the marshes

& to dream I would had touched all the stars

like you did, Major Tom.

I want to throw away my red shoes,

it’s not the time to dance under the serious moonlight,

while Ziggy Stardust plays his mighty guitars.

Don’t you remember standing by the wall, 

pretending we can all be heroes,

& as we kissed,

we prayed that nothing can ever fall?

An innovator, a junkie, a true soul brother

dressed in the latest fashions,

we will miss you in this world & worlds beyond,

as we continue to dream without crying,

when we can all dance again in your name,

cleansed by ashes & the mighty river.

Third day back at work 

in the New Year,

& still, no one’s here.

No good vibrations to play off of—

Even the IT guy on Monday was spooked:

“Dude, it’s too quiet! How can you stand it?”

The knives of the mind are dulled by silence.

Meditation quiets the mind.

But then my muses are bound & gagged

until I stop breathing deep—

I am hungry for voices outside.

Someone’s coming in!

Brain’s now sharper;

I am well again.