Flute of the Moon
there are lessons the trees and the wind cannot teach
but im never gonna die like a raver on the beach
when the fog rolls in like a smoke machine
when the record stops, ill still do my thing
off in the distance a lighthouse beams
fishermen out on boats, real people
fix lines and set traps
we dance as the light flashes past us
but don’t always see the rocks that lie ahead
so we hold our travel companions close
in the depths of this west coast mist
we hold them like they are everything, because they are
I wanted to be there with each and every one of you
like when we were young, and the moon came out
and you played the flute and we didn’t sleep
I wanted to collect huckleberries with you in the damp forest
I wanted to write my name next to yours
in the storybooks of our lives
wanted to draw my face into the photographs
so we could laugh years later
but i had to withdraw, like when i went into the mountains
i found a cave and bones
I thought I had died many years earlier in a place like that
but it was only loneliness
I had become.
a blade of grass away from it all,
and you looked for me
you followed my tears to a lake
i felt hollow there, like a plant
sucking nutrients through a reed.
like a bullfrog,
my eyes barely cresting the surface.