the legen of buffalo meat
drying in the sun
all these ghosts and visions
from fairy tale history

all these ghosts and visions
of cigarette smoke
and worn jeans
of the men we could have been
been in childhood sunsets

yeah well
give me blessed coffee in mornings
and cursed booze in the darkness

these creatures
with silver angel wings
and
pearly fangs
sucking at my aorta
and
carrying me off to dreams
forgotten
or
thrown away

the jukebox neons
and
leather interiors
of unholy
american automobiles
Johny Cash's
voice
and my
transparent bottom of the bottle
sins
under all these night eyeball stars
and old world myths

then
crimson folk rock
with the sun rising
on it just right

poet idle
in the car with Morrissey
crooning slow
the empty ghost
whispers
of the shopping plaza
torment
half open eyed
visions
cuz this is life
and this is death
and this is time
and the world the world the world

chilled air
clotting the ink
and synapses
and capillaries
so that words
jumble
and heavenly
inspired thoughts
back up
and trip
ugly mess
and ruin

sunset halo
and autumn sky

these catskill promises
of freedom
and wind
in grass on mountainside
dissolve angelic
in the afternoon

the world shaking
the sun
birthed this morning
apocalypse red