watching the temperature

already it's too hot for work or thought
but i can't stop until i've done the job
the road is clear and the line is taut
already it's too hot for work or thought

choices must be made before we're caught
between the laughter and the sorry sob
already it's too hot for work or thought
but i can't stop until i've done the job

under the willows

no matter what the lies that scoffers say
you have the power to do just what you need
enough for hope but not to cloy a greed
the sun will set red in the distant bay
and you will need the stars to find your way
but to the proper message you must heed
if your staff's to be more than a mere reed
and your feet are not to be mired in the clay
the light does what it always has to do
shadows aren't monsters although you may fear
there are no wolves hidden behind each tree
each firefly promises something strange and new
the end's to be with those you hold most dear
and only the straight path will set you free

mystery of the editorial voice

a polite no's far better than a curt yes
we haven't taken thought for that much pain
but know that time will give us more not less

there's no one who can curse or who can bless
we see the clouds and curse the absent rain
a polite no's far better than a curt yes

we say much less than free folk should express
in summer we might laugh at the chilblain
but know that time will give us more not less

we're far too wise to contemplate redress
whatever went before will come again
a polite no's far better than a curt yes

a sort of weight on every head will press
we purport to resist with might and main
but know that time will give us more not less

each of us takes our feelings to excess
in spite of fact we'll hope for victory plain
(a polite no's far better than a curt yes)
but know that time will give us more not less

What's possible

we'd rather sleep and dream than fight
but choice is not what we have got
the only options are to die or rot

the future may be dull or may be bright
in any case we know we're on the spot
we'd rather sleep and dream than fight

the answer is that we ought to be right
we don't want our memory to be a blot
but have no choice whether it is or not
we'd rather sleep and dream than fight

nothing too baroque

music expands the needy aching mind
we need the silence broken for our peace
something to ease the normal daily grind
music expands the needy aching mind

a magic sound that spirits can unbind
immune we know to whim and to caprice
music expands the needy aching mind
we need the silence broken for our peace

later to win

we play the deuce when others play the ace
our luck is good but cards don't come out right
we call a game what's just our normal plight

what joy we have when in each proper place
reason our careful plans will not indict
we play the deuce when others play the ace

only the rats can understand this race
it doesn't matter if you have the might
or if you can't tell day from night
we play the deuce when others play the ace

allow us to observe

we know that facts are subject to dispute
but that can't stop us from asserting ours
we can't help being clever and astute
we know that facts are subject to dispute

allow us all the chance of good repute
and hope for fame beyond the furthest towers
we know that facts are subject to dispute
but that can't stop us from asserting ours

satori

at some late hour we recognise the bird
as waiting for our absence and our crumbs
it tells us this and we think it absurd
at some late hour we recognise the bird

i think and read and that makes me a nerd
at putting things together i'm all thumbs
at some late hour we recognise the bird
as waiting for our absence and our crumbs

customarily correct

master confucius tells us what is rite
is the correct approach to all we do
but we must keep our families in sight

lots of old teachers chatter all the night
about the vulgar many and the happy few
master confucius tells us what is rite

and nothing's trivial seen in the proper light
each of us must our human sense renew
but we must keep our families in sight

the one who knows is properly bedight
but those who don't simply obscure the view
master confucius tells us what is rite

you wait for the proper river fish to bite
and all the while you hold your lucky shoe
but we must keep our families in sight

our joy in sacrifice is never slight
the sacred smoke rises right up the flue
master confucius tells us what is rite
but we must keep our families in sight

we are the eschaton

a darker sun casts light of different hue
upon the world we see and apprehend
the sort of thing that's open to our view
is rendered most obtuse and may depend
not on our sense of what is fair or just
but simply on who gets in the first blow
all those who went before are now old dust
and we will be forgotten by first snow
but right this moment we know what is real
our eyes aren't dim and still our ears can hear
we can still comprehend just what's the deal
we can still prize and think our hopes are dear
the kind of light that we'll require for sight
is bright enough although soon will fall night