paths continually winding
heading toward diverse directions,
paths to guide
rowing us along
to face, swallow, digest
the next charge
those rides prove
as bumpy as rebirth,
yet fortunate not to divert the calm
greater the distances traveled
somewhere along the way
rules then hit us up,
somebody buying those laws
sending us home without something learned
where do these journeys to anywhere begin?
up in the air, right?
inside, right there at the tip of the nose, don’t deny it!
and of course you want to dig jazz along the way,
imaging all the great new possibilities,
and of course you forgot some promise you made to yourself
out there,
but does intuition ever pause to rest:
we shall continue go naked full of luck.
we could go straight, left, or right,
instead, we move on
turning inward at the crossroads
St. Louis
1/21/73