“Alas, who may trust this world”

Fortuna, unstable as the moon’s phases

Luke an unbalanced wheel’s uncertain moment

Chance and mutability and inconstancy

Cast me here

No, there is no faithfulness in this world

How decidedly a professional identity

Dissolves and you are left

My parents’ generation was set for life

I bought the false promise, too

Not for us, not for me

We eke out a mean existence in a mean world

Grab ahold of a fragment of solace

For as long as it will last

Fall, fail, pick up the pieces

Pick up yourself to try to manage

Another day, week, year, decade, life

Will the world turn for me

Fortune favor my fragment of solace

Land me on my feet again?

Or is my lesson here

In these straightened circumstances

Is there profit here?

In this loss

The recession in this micro-economy that was my life

What is lacking that I am not happy?

The Wheel of Fortune

Blown away by the blues licks of

John Watkins–he played with

Buddy Guy, Koko Taylor, and Willie Dixon

Played with

Here he is in a blues bar in my small city

Played with

I think of Darryl, my friend, he played

Arenas with Frank Zappa, Earl Klugh

Now eking out a living playing cruise ships

Played with


The wheel turns–turns for all of us

A wheel in a wheel, in a wheel

There is a big wheel turning the world

We each of us turn in our small wheel

I was up–oh, I was up

My wheel spun off the axle and crashed

Oh, I crashed

It wasn’t a matter of riding high and falling low

I crashed

The big wheel swung me up onto my feet again

The beneficent big wheel

I’ve been riding it upward for years

And my small wheel is turning me towards prosperity

I’m not expecting it to crash

But who does?