It is 8 oclock this morning
And we are chasing 7:30 just to see you
dragging our dirty hubcaps against this long road
And sparking poetry fragments.
Often yours, sometimes ours
Many times unspoken
These spokes wont stop turning
Until North Carolina hits us
like a sack of books in the face
But to cross every bridge back home
Carrying your signature in our pages
Is the shot of adrenaline we’re banking on
So please keep your eyes open
For three bed burning broken bodies
Bursting out of New York like
700 miles worth of bad ideas
Nicotine
And the resilience to not nod off
That only comes from knowing right now
This highway was made in the hope that someday
Three kids would take it
Just to hear poetry in North Carolina
So I’m first time marveling
At the solid brick buildings that pull
Hills out of forests
And the broken down barns that still manage
To conquer
The emptiness surrounding them
Despite the infestation of fast food rest stops
This road is stupidly beautiful
And, Buddy, I’m quoting you in every state
And finding new meaning in everything
Inside and out of your poems

I want to chase that rabbit

all around this town

I want to run forever

I want to chase it down

down below this city

down where there’s no light

away from all the hubbub

away from all the fights

I want to chase that rabbit

and see where it may go

I’ve got to chase that rabbit

or I will never know

why are you living today?
and if that doesn’t bring
you rain then why are you
looking up at all?
will the glare that you
catch every time
going up the hill to work
get you tomorrow too?
and when it does
when it does
will you look up
and will it finally rain?

i surely do see clouds
but in my years i’ve come
to not expect anything at all

—

it didn’t rain on the
president

or you

yesterday

i suppose it never will

and in the name of the
great drought
i pray

amen.

In a tenement,
surrounded by kindred spirits,
we gathered for a holy rite
in a room divided by time,
I ingested God and waited…

Shadows passed through the door,
some to eat, some to sell,
and some to buy…
All familiar faces or people from memories
people I never knew,
shadows, just shadows…

And on God’s terrace with veiled eyes,
I watched the clouds make love
and disappear.
I saw a flag flapping against the wind
and a hurricane in the trees.
On the ground more shadows,
faces and memories.
In the distance birds called softly
and before the memories rode away
they waved and laughed one final time…

Going for a walk in the streets

It was a flash in the mist
that brought me in to the rain.

Now I am sopping wet
but I am vigilant.

Now at least
my eyes are open.

The camera is recording,
too.