Song for the undoing

How the days went by like the poets said they would, like wild horses over the hills

or worse: indistinct and unnoticed, unremarkable, not lived.

Let the days be seen for their own worth,

wild as horses, mysterious as the shape of clouds, wrapped in the world of our own wonder, and what we can see in it:

living a whole life in each one,

in this small space.

Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: , , , , , ,

10 replies

  1. Beautifully expressed 👍


  2. Nice post…


  3. You channel my favorite guy. He still, after all these years, can deliver the goods. Most of the time, things pass in and out of favor. When I was in high school I used to listen to those early Rush albums almost non-stop. Now I do it just when I want to feel nostalgic. I read a lot of Vonnegut at one time. Now, not so much. But Hank Buk can still lay me flat, all these years later. That’s real staying power, don’t you think?

    Liked by 1 person

    • It is staying power, kind of anchors you in something that won’t change, which is hard to find. There’s a no BS I think freshness to him, though I know at least Walt W has speculated, was it real or BS (the lifestyle, etc). Reads real to me. Especially having all those boils on his back popped.


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