there is no power . that can be taken; unless . it’s given away
soft looking pillows . are deceiving, on mornings . after a snowfall
sometimes, on waking . a dream will linger, making . the night make no sense
when color’s removed . attention is directed . by lines and shadows
what’s outside the door . needs to be worth the effort . it takes to get there
there is a story . in ordinary moments . just stop and listen
when a door is closed . all too often we assume . it is also locked
no one would confuse . a lemon and banana . though both are yellow
under the layers . of noise, there is a stillness . that we rarely see
when shaping nature . to our will, we have reshaped . our human nature
uptown jack 