Poetry · Writing

Golden Year

Lakeside and Rockies,

I see them in my dreams

and in pen.

Fresh landing

momentum carrying strong

dicing like craps.

I’ll never stop.

Breaking boards with my mind

line down targets until I find

these quiet Rockies.

The River calls to me,

I’ll take just my pen

honey in a jar

night in the vale

and I’ll row down that River.

Bowie said it was be more glamorous,

Angles dancing, life isn’t taking you nowhere, run from the shadow.

I’ve seen the angels dance, but I’ll be damned

if the shadow locks down a single minute

of dancing time with my Angel.

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