Baroness
She was a baroness
shoulder length blonde mop
from some little postage stamp size country in Eastern Europe
divided and subdivided out of existence
not on globes big or small
or faded folded up dog eared maps, GPS
a footnote in encyclopedias
a forgotten memory long forgotten by most
but she called herself a baroness anyway
deep pockets and deep gazes from her green eyes
jumped out of a history book
she lived in Arizona
with a view of NYC
she had a grand piano
on her grander balcony
people came to play or not play
and disappear into their own worlds far away far away
The Point Of It All
I walked down a country road
misty early evening
a bird flew past me
and soared into the sky
I followed him up
but still I couldn’t see
I went higher into the clouds
seriously into the cirrus
many miles up from home
over the lanes and the creeks
gliding with my wings
but I couldn’t see
I went higher into the stars
above it all love
I took a long deep look
I contemplated the complicated
I paused at the Milky Way
I guess I’ll never see
the point of it all
