put all your wars out for the rest of the night.
tell yourself dreams sometimes hold their own.
sometimes the earth claims it loves you.
the broken circumference of humanity professes it can heal sufficiently
if left well enough alone.
sometimes the devil is just another hapless lost sailor on a ship
that could have done much better if it never left dry land.

in the understated lost city of sometime hope,
everyone is a potential pilgrim,shining in the revolving dark.
sometimes the earth just might feel you,
and that unruly overwrought book of golden rules blows across the shrapnel,
toward the origin of all attempts of music.

last night i heard a coyote sing your name as the moon bathed its aching body.
last night all fugitives safely were pardoned.
sometimes you put your money down
and the wheel's rhythm
encompasses
what you felt were your most endearing dance steps.

the angry children grew up too fast,
they turned into trees that blocked the light.
winter has successfully grabbed the top bunk.
put all your pain in a plastic bag,
put it in the freezer
we'll eat it tomorrow night,
after the big game finishes with us.

 
in the mistaken identity culture,
we find our niche,
our skin disowns its blemishes,
and the hostile witnesses of our souls
have discovered the simple things
can be the most unfathomable items on the wish list.

last night the axe fell but misread its cue,
our necks cleared customs,
and now its our turn to steer the burning gondola along the canal of irrefutable insanity.
sometimes the earth does get out on its own recognizance,
and when it hobbles onto your porch,
don't try to outguess it,
for its heart is vast and richly blank
of anything resembling a plan.

stare it down all you can, if you feel you must,
but know my eyes are cranky with attempting to see way too much.
i'm going to quietly blend in with the torn wallpaper,
and when the gods come down for their collateral,
i'll share my empty pockets with them,
and together we'll sing songs that never know how or when to end.

 
the last rabbit's pulled out of the last hat,and the topography boggles the so called mind.
the insatiable feast re-invents its cuisine everytime you stumble with a smile.
the earth needs a capable public defender.
tell the avenger that vengeance is retro and passe.
last night the mute choir got a grammy and the heat waved hello.

 

scott
florence,oregon
10/01/2010

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