Generations sleep
They creek within the music
Buzzing in my skin
As harmony 
Reveals
   with daily meals
      of gratitude
In ancient
   brooks of solitude

We are reborn with liquid 
   regularity
That bridges
   bays 
      of drifting personality

I know their memories are there
I know their message
   plays their sound
      in conversations
Wound around the mound
   of social cloth
      and future bound

Each step 
   each phrase
      musing in the days 
Of circumstances
Placed before the cauldron
   of existence
Boils deep within desire
And pulls the flesh
   and melts the brain 
      and quells the savage brace
Of lonelines

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr