Forever Tenuous

Better to live out this senselessness

And then die of joy.

I see the old of the world

So.

Tired.

No.

Consciousness.

Left.

Boil water. Stop fish.

Better to sleep with Mount Diablo

On rotted, rusted steel beds.

Sleep with Devil Mountain.

Dream of the

Splendid fleeting moment

When something once flowed

Through my deadly tired body

Open the window

I want red dragons to guard my treasures

I’d rather climb mountains with God

I’d rather see bison shift weight from haunch to haunch

And stroll through the crazed fields of wheat

I’d rather see the trails of dead cartilage on my arms,

View the teeth stains on my chest.

And tongue the once-bitten and bled an now-fattened lower lip.

The treasures,

The treasures,

The treasures left

From a night well spent

With the lovely rogue, Trix

I’m desperate for succor.

Show me showgirls and truck stops.

Plumage, diesel tanks and grace.

Fates that grunt empathy

From rain-sodden wallows.

The women I’ve known,

Those strong of bone,

Have long gone underground.

The rest drown in cynicism,

Take academic cyanide,

And become vigilantes

Rudderless with emotion

My holding of water is forever tenuous