I’ve never even seen
such a sight as a
volcano in the
back yard.
And the smoke
and the fire did
consume all of the
unprecious fuel we
fed it.
And I’m sure we shouldn’t
burn old tires and oil
but sir, I must admit
that it was cool, and
you can’t prove a
god damn thing
anyway.
Glancing along the bookshelf
Don Quixote stares back at me
And underneath him staggered sideways
There’s an infinite number
Watching back at me
Like hundreds of rectangular eyes
Hiding in the shadows of moons and suns
Finding respite in tollbooths and towers
Since the beginning
When red letters spilled onto delicate pages
Tenderly crafted so that even
The smallest rodent and elephants
Can drink from the same water
Until they finally come undone
The voyage ending
Returning to the roots
Alongside the stream
Perfection finds its place
