Bones in Stays

I don’t know where I’m goin’

Or if I should even go

But if I be stayin’

There’ll be stays round my bones

And how shall I breathe then?

Well, now I am stayin’

I do hope my own bones will stay

For if I be dreamin’

There’ll be ghosts round my days

And how shall I sleep then?

I always been dreamin’

For it is easy to dream

But if I ain’t doin’

My dreams’ll bubble to steam

And how shall I be then?

I will have blown my dreams away

The boneless ghosts will say

I will have thrown them all away

If I don’t grow them today

How do I grow my bones in stays?

This is a song of warning to myself... To heed the inner voice.

I think it's important to follow one's dreams. Otherwise, life is more difficult.

And to do it now! To have patience, but not to postpone.

Everything in its time, no need to force anything. But also to follow "the call."

I realize now that it will just keep calling.

If you don't follow your dreams, THEY WILL FOLLOW YOU.

Dreams

If dreams are part of who we are

Then a part of me you are

Where is the line?

The wall, the door?

And will one side enter the other?

I sleep with you inside of me

Though my bed of you is empty

You are a vision inside my head

You are a spool and I am the thread

I am a pencil, you are the lead

I am a coffin, you are the dead

I hold you while I am inanimate

And I mold you, though you are granite

Such is the power of seein’ blind

And such is the magic of the unconscious mind

If dreams are part of who we are

Then a part of me you are

I woke up from a nap one afternoon at Lippincott & wrote this song.

When I Woke Up

When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was

My eyes were still shut to the world in which I was enclosed

The wet parade of the water down from the sky

White as the white of a dog with a white, little eye

But there’s no barkin’ up this tree

I can’t ask you to be with me

You’re stuck in a dream

Like a rubber boot in mud, and you’re empty

As the apartment in which I’m kickin’ around in like a stone

And if I am the dog, my dream’s the bone

But I’m the tree

With my feet in a knot, and the knot like a leash to the ground

And my eyes making bonnets o’ gaze to nightly surround

The face of the moon in her multitudinous shapes

Like the circles and folds in a cast-iron pan full of crepes

But there’s no fannin’ these flames

I am wet and still it rains

Then turns to snow

Like rabbit fur from rabbits with hearts cold

And since my hands are, my heart cannot be

But my hands are also empty

Like a winter tree

They were red when they should have been-

They were red when they should have been-

They were red when they should have been-

They were full when they should have been-

They were full when they should have been-

They were full when they should have been empty

And November is wetter and colder than October

And though they’re gone, I remember the circlin’ birds

When I break down, I leave the light on

And the man o’ sand comes with another dream I’ll ride upon

This song I wrote when I was living at College & Dufferin.

I remember white skies & bicycle rides home from work through the freezing rain.

And red, red trees that hadn't dropped their leaves yet.

Remembering & dreaming & waking up again.