Writing while driving

Hum buzz bordem drive.
Listen, it said by way of
Blacktop jazz thumping rocks

From miles away.
Write melody and recite memory and
Altogether it's all the same - Poetry.
Road octaves and talk radio streaming
Consciousness and ourselves - thinking in
Silence. From here to there across
Time and everywhere, just that short store
Trip to the longest place.

Our fingers invent cylinders of poetry
Because truth can't resist tempo -
Measured yellow stripes dashing
Rhythms strapped and seated
Inside something moving us.
And always, the refrain is
Don't give me that crap that you can't sing. So
I wrote music in the sky while driving.

White cloud chords and canvas,
Lyrical roads remind us
Poetry, just like our soul's sound,
Can't sing itself.