May the vibe of the tone

of the Song of the World

still come through. May it

like early September

sun through spaces in

its cooling clouds

to warm us when

the breeze slows. May it

come drying up the fresh

lush Chi-town trees

and pavements after morning

rain, may it though

we’ve charged ourselves up

to give more credit

to the moment. May it

like our dreams coming

true, unfolding as the present we

imagine too often

is not; may it come thru

like the truths

of our beings, like

supersleuth artistry leaving

its evidence on our quick-

moving bodies as

ink stains and paint blotches

on our favorite

jeans. May the song come

through as we turn

down our music and

tone down our ignorance

to listen with our hearts, our eyes

our open souls,

to see around us the brilliance

of this

deep sea dream expressing itself

in gentle surprise,

a daughter’s prophetic

scribblings of red ink

on the inner found pages

of a new trip, keeping

always fresh its present segue.

Brian Janisse (Aug. ‘18) adds, This poem is a prayer for a change of attitude, a call to slow down and rekindle a misplaced sense of harmony with the world.

*Fusel: (From Wikipedia) Fusel alcohols…also sometimes called fusel oils in Europe, are mixtures of several alcohols (chiefly amyl alcohol) produced as a by-product of alcoholic fermentation. The word fusel is German for ‘bad liquor.’ “Brian adds, “I referred to the occurrence of fusing together.”

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