Here's a poem I wrote in an email to a friend back in 2014. Just an off the cuff sort of thing. Obviously inspired by Bob Dylan. And some random pictures that kind of feel like they fit.


steamboat don't come round no more
and a whistlin' train's a long way gone.
we got here somehow but never knew
what it'd look like when we flew.

aint no tellin and no words can say.
tomorrow's as good as today as good as yesterday as good as anyway you like.
got yer eye on the prize, the prize in the bush, and the bush is beatin' around us
like a bull in a rodeo beatin' round a clown got in over his head.
and we're all the clown until we're long gone and dead down the road somewheres.

your head's in the clouds and you can't help but see
there aint no up down forward back here there you or me.
there's just your blind faith that you're doin your best
to get out of this mess.  gain some clarity.  get a lay of the land if you can.
so you stick with your plan and keep pushin through cottonball white lookin for a spot of blue.
even though you suppose that try as you might you'll never get through.

you got a blind ambition's drivin' you like a steampowered train.
like a steam locomotive rollin' round the bend towards its obsolete end.
you just movin' along like a train singing your song again and again
thinkin' maybe you can beat avionics and supersonics and, friend,
you know you cant, you aint, and you wont. it just dont work like that.

and thats alright, its ok.  y'can take solace in the knowing that's true.
knowin' you don't need to worry wondrin' yourself blue.
all your blind ambition ain't gonna lead you through no clouds no path
no dreams at last. at least that beast don't need to get the better of you.

you got one chance to 'be good', and i didn't say 'do good'.
now you know the difference and that's a good place to start.
just keep that in mind when your driving blind, keep that in your head and your heart
when you're drivin' down windin' down grindin' down til you're good and dead, good and tired, wired and sleepless, creepin' around behind your own back, goin' back on things you said once you wouldn't do, goin back on previous you, steamboat locomotin' further and further from baby you know who.

you're alright inside, and that's good enough.
that's plenty, that'll do.
you're not twenty any more.  
that don't mean you can't act like it.
or like you're five years old at least.
now that's progress and where's the bathroom?
can't argue with that.