Boulder In a Bowl
(With Denver as a Side Dish)
They come on fallen morning
dawns chasing and darkness flies
then night begins and morning dies...
Driving South on Ninety-three
I wonder about the mad poet
I am bound to become
He sees teeth who are mountains
and clouds gnashing themselves ragged
in the twilight mist of morning soft
as yet unbroken
east side back of the Rockies
spotted white patches, December down
a cross of lights and lighted cross
serpentine hiss as headlights pass
eyes on the back of centipede car beasts
Ain’t nothin’ like a crimson dawn
feathering cloud
wisp of hope for the new day
phat path beaten
edge of horizon
bare backs of dead horses
a man between kisses
Be nice to me, girl
I will breathe you a breath of tides
a promise of dune
Ride your coursing river of blood
comes as no surprise
heartbeats and minuets
babies dancing on the Moon
a crier lands on their face
intercourse of dead poets
composers of doom
We approach the wall anointed
a dust of centuries resides
Autumn face
strangers wear the names
of dead Children
Don’t you dare twinkle your stars
make a space for living
somewhere this side of halo
ancient wanderers roamed
a field of crosses
seeds of victory borne
the brows of soldiers known
grief in a stranger’s land
a broken bone for wishing
Children want to, like, know cool things
mind-walk barefoot
through the mucus of Gods
whose breath hails Winter
A howling dog from its backyard bed
driven to the asylum
wings of father fallen
and mother, Goddess of whiskey
I am come to write the days
the wrongs upon their faces
look underneath the skin
she finds my fingers in her hair
a woman’s rage
ain’t no masque to hide
Driving North on Ninety-three
I wonder about the old singer
I am bound to be sung
he sings of teeth who are tall buildings
clouds hollow and cold mountain mimic
and a fading Sun
brings afternoon crashing toward night
west side back of skyscrapers
twinkle of window, December town
land full of light and lighted land
mouth full of false promises
dark unowned and the man beast stands
Ain’t nothin’ like a crimson dusk
withering cloud
resolution, the new night
hammered by wind
horizon dissolves
slick oil backs of dinosaurs gone
A man between kisses
be nice to me, girl
remove the dagger from my heart
just take it away
offer reprieve, sanctuary
no thing new to find
heartbeats and last waltzes
aged couples fornicating in the dirt
a crier slaps their bare asses
hymns written by Hitler’s men
choir of the damned
our mouths as dry as puppet string
a stack of hollow bone, our homes
strangers swear forgiveness
a parade of ghosts
Come to water the oceans
provide a dry bed of seed
this planet underneath
fish walked back-humped on finned feet
and shallow of root
they are sent stumbling
to settle anew where home is home
joy in a stranger’s bed
his stolen cup for drinking
The old would like to know nothing
mind-sleep, feet wrapped
in tear soaked rags of Gods
whose wind promise empty
a mumbling beggar
from the frozen street
hell-bent, embraces madness
blanket of warm falling
and mother, Goddess of whiskey
I am come to write the days
the wrongs upon their passing
live underneath the skin
she finds my eyes in those face
a woman’s rage
ain’t no masque to hide
