poor
boy plays his flute to a herd of
goats grazing in the
dunes sunny side
up what’s that the symbol of? the
grass is always greener on my side of
the dream the tapping on
my window pane sets another scene it’s
heavy weather the sky is
grey the rain pours
down dismal as an infant’s funeral
some days
I drag the low end but it doesn’t matter it
doesn’t bother me I won’t be writing
any suicide notes on that
account I’m not fixing to die anytime
soon I just began learning how to
live I have circumstances
to accommodate and those can be a
bitch I can’t complain
but I will anyway
I
roll out of bed a tsunami of
shit sweeps me off my
feet and leaves me gasping on the wakeful
shore these are the heavy
latitudes and the days land
hard dark and
oppressive this is the land of
ghosts and ancient lore the land
of violence and suicidal rage I have firewater in
my veins and fear in my heart these last million
miles have worn me thin one good
rain could wash me down the drain to
dissolve like baby aspirin in a pool of baby
tears
I’m
wedded now to this heavy
heart to have and
hold until death we do part I’m just a dog
without a bone still fighting a
war that ended long
ago a typhoon picked me up and shook my shadow
loose the pieces have fallen back to
earth but my light casts no
warmth and I’m not the man I
pretended to be back in the
day before the
deluge swept me away
