Blast Beats

Before I knew the dim history of my distant fathers,
I thought of Constantine as the name of a steady heartbeat,
or an everflowing river, eager to run and never tired,
for this is what I have always strove to become.

For now, I am more a tempermental volcano,
intermittent and distracted, my thoughts sputter and blow out,
long before they have reached their conclusive end,
yet I long to emerge with a steady beat of the drum,
eating the love and devotion I sought.

Crunch Time

My eyes define the edge,
and relieve to see the clock still holds time,
etching thin lines between numbers,
dividing minutes in its digital insides,
counting the span I've lapsed,
from now until next week.

Lake City Bus Stop

What sets the tone for a scene,
the way the sky calmly eeks out the rain,
slowly as if it has all day,
or perhaps how the ground covers itself with
dull bark surrounding old landscaping,
peppered equally with cigarette butts
as with aged helicopter seeds?