Circular Tides
PRESENTS
a poem by
JERRY BUCKLEY
Halfway to Nowhere
Halfway to nowhere
Nearly out of gas.
Halfway to nowhere
Running from the past.
Echoes of the soft machine,
Resonate in my brain.
Primal fear, knee-jerk response
Naked truth, without nuance.
Color fades to black and white
Then darkens to terminal night.
Open road, ahead and behind,
A Zen koan without design.
Halfway to nowhere
Nearly out of gas.
Halfway to nowhere
Running from the past.
Echoes of the soft machine,
Resonate in my brain.
Primal fear, knee-jerk response
Naked truth, without nuance.
Color fades to black and white
Then darkens to terminal night.
Open road, ahead and behind,
A Zen koan without design.
Halfway to nowhere,
Nearly out of gas.
Halfway to nowhere
Running from the past.
A man with a cigarette
Appears on the screen
Explaining the difference between,
How things are and how they seem.
It’s usually too late,
For a worthwhile debate.
You’re on your own,
In the Twilight Zone.
Halfway to nowhere,
Nearly out of gas.
Halfway to nowhere
Running from the past.
A man with a cigarette
Appears on the screen
Explaining the difference between,
How things are and how they seem.
It’s usually too late,
For a worthwhile debate.
You’re on your own,
In the Twilight Zone.