a well lit silhouette picture of you

I pictured you upon the fallen pieces forming a direct and respectful plateau, the perfect stand for a grandiose man such as yourself, tall and flailing is the mimic you cast upon firelight back-lit cavernous caverns, the enchanted ones pound, pouring out earthen rhythms on stretched skins howling, singing dancing topless, dancing, the slap of their feet at yours.

You fabricate the myths intensely making open ears want to listen as the movements of your voice booming, the madd look behind yer blazing eyes, grab the walls and souls and shakes them.

I picture you here completely content with the land and life gathering, preaching to the colonized casualties that miracles and myths, shooting stars angels and wit were born in and grew out of the earth with a low hums dream of crescendo, how they made their voices heard in the fresh night fallen light at the same time the wolf learned how to howl at the moon....everything stops to listen.

You, slumped over a fading fire, embers bathing you bare in raw light, wiping cactus wine from yer lips with yer wrist, the end of the jug still clenched about yer fist, babbling on to the last lingering ones wide-eyed about the top of the world, in-between, whispering little dribble bits, late night myths of dive bars and diners in Jerseys deep corners.