It's all Material I think
as I swipe another barcode
while functioning at an
optimal level of intelligence
Breathe now the new words
in Augustinian fancy:
Free and new.
I'm gon' give you
Thirty days to get
back home; thirty days
is all it takes to reclaim
a wasted mind
and life in this land?
Amygdala stanchion, here,
loop your pack on the post
sidle in up to the bar.
Lo your happy place yet is far
now but no more gone.
Declinate: the long bands
of twilight again
turned afire in strand
golden hair.
Sagebrush, hyacinth,
purple loosestrife,
the found land found again
in yon verdant shadowed treeline,
walk into it,
seer.
Walk into them long
hills in song. The laws of
distance quarter
new dawn
for burnouts,
so all lost fantasies are
on again. Now no more
bullshit,
no more ashes
crushed out,
no more cringing,
no more long face,
no more dearth.
No more
parking lots.
And what of loss?
Where decibels
turn to matter,
the light slurries
into sound
pure sound
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