travelled those lonely highways
only to hesitate at the junction of
tobacco & cemetery roads, afraid to
move forward when I know I can’t turn back.
there’s nothing to go back to anyway…
they dropped me, in the rags of a soldier, onto
desecrated battlefields. they put a rifle in my
hands. I shoot into the darkness, wondering if
the bullet hits something. estimating the value of
my own life if it doesn’t.
a turbulent reverie that blazes like wildfire,
till the whiskey washes it away.
when the mist fades in the alleyways of my hideous
recall, the parade begins: those angels in shades of
blue, beguilers & whores, who instruct an undisciplined
man in the proper use of his hands & mouth, for their
own glory. & I repay their intent with kindred debauchery;
I leave them tainted, painted with lipstick smears &
mascara tears. harlequin veneer of pretend lovers.
and thus has my journey evolved, along these trails
of lust & inglorious dust.
where are the lovesongs of the heart? do they hang in the
mercurial air, do they cling to the raindrops, awaiting the
industrious quill, to be moved with grace by the doubtful poet?
every song is a silence;
every melody is a dirge.
and so I cower in the brightest sunlight,
empty of heart & of spirit,
a poet without poetry.