Untitled (will prob be two poems)
Financed through the private university
With clandestine liberal arts dreams
I roll around in the morning
Deciding whether my body will tolerate hot sauce and nicotine
Then to step out in the cloudy day breeze, the rain at bay, i slip on my boots
Beat visions of both the wild west and men mowing their lawns amble through my brain
I’m cut and blessed by the winds of tortured land that I can only grasp at
--
Neighbors will become your lovers and hereos pedestrian
At least in the small town world where dreams, for those who dream them, are elucidated by street signs
Railroad tracks, creeks, lakes, and roads are the bones of myths which stir the envy of the past; (yet the past) lives in your eyes. It lives in the marrow of your ears and the tender synapses of your hands which touch the world
To wonder is to give it a newfound existence, and to sit in a trance is to fuel the universe
--
The most valuable gifts are given for free yet those who hold gold scorn
To truly own anything you only must believe
--
A penniless dancer (helplessly) mercifully (marries) binds her toes to the ever-shifting ground
As you just learn to hold the flag of a (false) fallacious union
She girds her jaw and her teeth into iron and mud as your shiny lips graze soft fruit which (goes to flow) flows through your arms
--
As she declares war, you (sit at the head of the press) whittle at the spine of your notebook, condemning those who ever shoveled their beating heart out of their chest to plant it in the mud, a tree of beautiful flesh blossoming under the golden sun