goodbye secret mornings

when flow dont sing,

when pathways to your brain are busy feudin,

frenetically hashin out which tracks left,

which ones wicked,

while that trains sittin there hummin from all corners

to hop on to,

cars full of visions, crisp ones

and miracles appear over and over again

in many expressions

if looked at them that certain way-

maybe every livin thing

(includin human beings)

SEES them

should one decide to climb aboard

outside, country zippin on

dyin further if youre dead inside

spreadin multi-directionally if you still got your seeds-

and back in Spanish Harlem,

wheres your woman?

well she’s residin out here 

rockin along significantly 

across this travlin snow of Oklahoma

2/73