Wings

This is how I spread my wings,
on four winds in mournful sigh,
this is how I live my dreams,
this is how I fly,
Into a night that’s darker deep,
than the black at the bottom of the sea,
Into a soul so fast asleep,
aching to be free.

I’ll fly out to the edge of time,
will you be far behind?
The last of innocence,
I’ll sacrifice to find,
A place of truth and inner peace,
A place where I can know,
I am free to spread my wings,
and let the four winds blow.

 

From Red Line Wine

Much of my early poetry is infused with a somewhat self-created mythology of the town I called home during my high school years, Tracy, California, though really it’s a mythology about this valley in general. I renamed the town “Tinker Town”, because back then the population had yet to exceed fourteen thousand people and there wasn’t much for a teenager to do. There are local places mentioned in some of the poems, known to us back in the day, like “The Top of the World”. There are locations, roads, places, mentioned that no longer exist. A gas station that used to be the only thing in the middle of otherwise nowhere is used as a location in one of my short stories titled, “With All the Romance”, previously published at Thunderdome and set to appear in “Midnight at The Starlight Deluxe”, though I moved it to where I needed it to be. There’s a “secret” place known to some where one can stand and allegedly feel “the four winds.”Β  In our youth, I think we also felt like some of Blue Oyster Cult’s lyrics were really about where we were, obviously a lot of people felt and feel that way. Those are all the kinds of things that make those years special, like catching lightning in a bottle.Β  ~ TS

“Does anybody ever realize life while they live it, every, every minute?
No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”
~Our Town, Thornton Wilder