Wednesday, March 19, 2008

turn off here,
the engine
may be on fire,
or there

may be an
electrical storm,
the sky ripped thru
with jagged fire

or maybe just a
beat up old field,
and we can build
a lean-to out of old
poems, radio
waves and opiates

I mean, the clock's
busted, so maybe we've
been on this road all day.
my eyes are starting
to reflect the pavement
in that way they do
before momentum
simply takes over


apotheosis said...

That last stanza is wild, --that moment right before you slip into auto pilot-- you has it

Anonymous said...

Good stuff. I like it.