Trackless Tracts Revisited

I.
No train of thought on the track
Of chain reaction

To the café
Called abstraction

Where age is
A broken record skipping

Just for the hell of it

As jazzmen sometimes scream
Buoyant riffs that tiptoe

Through tulips atop the roof gardens
Like birds at play

Until the future is

A retrospection
On apocalypse

In antiquity’s
Private collection.

II. 
No train of thought
Or inherited

Inhibitions
Just rumbled rambles

Of revelation
Riding an escalating

Squall shaping
Into a streaming storm
Of consciousness coming

& going like zephyrs
Zooming in a zealous flurry

At the zero hour
Of Earth waking
To the flight of a newborn

Sunshower
Chasing the clouds away.

III.
No train of thought
Or sanctimonious

Superstitions
Merely moments

On the montage
Of mynd, remembering

The corridors

To everywhere from the edge
Of nowhere. No train

Of thought, just ordinary
Moods, & hearts

With standing room

Only, between moments
Of night & day

Sundry as the soular
Paths ahead of me.

©2003

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