Monday, December 9, 2013

written while watching HWY


the modern realization of the pagan nation

dance the indigenous dance amid the incantation

film makers are the educators of this present age

we can no longer hitchhike the American stage

 

set design on the open road

the director yells cut while the camera man reloads

un-tethered i weather the hitchhiker’s thumb

sixteen hours and my feet are numb

 

forty-eight miles and no one has picked me up

circle k beer and a to go cup

coyote misery run rabbit run

empty cans in the desert and i’m having fun

 

are you free? dead or dying?

alive? you’re lying.

the show is almost over on your t.v.

i start a camp fire with wood that is free

 

indian watches and just shakes his head

buzzards will eat me when i am dead

but tonight i have fire and hot desert rocks

i cannot expire if there are no clocks

 

four walls and a ceiling, bills to be paid

coffins are followed by a motorcade

and i am a poet who burned all his books

i started walking without even a look

 

back at the ashes that rose to the sky

while walking the highway i’m learning to fly

the road is so empty in-between towns

i’m the wilderness king and i’m wearing a crown

 

dawn has devoured and vomited light

my thumb stops a trucker and earns an invite

we make it to L. A. with nightfall in reach

i enter a bar that’s down by the beach

 

i watch all the citizens from sidewalks to stools

they think they’re so relevant but i think they’re fools

two beers in each hand i slip out the back

walk down to the water and watch it attack

the shoreline receding like hair on a head

i find a dry spot and make it my bed

***

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