Before M, GL.
Abernathy space ghost, coast to coast, Too much food for too few. Then late at night, we moonlit Miscreants skulked Down canal paths, toward muddy Tramp kingdoms, into angry Addicts hideaways, where Broken bottle baubles shone. If I could have my way with time, And go back to a moment, I would have a full pack, some Gas money and a good song, Blaring from a station wagon. On river road I’d be, Light up, and burn slow in witching hours, With my old friend.
I remember when we couldn’t sleep, Would only slumber by threat, or Deference to others who sooner succumbed. We walked the night instead, under amber lit Vapor trails and smoke, and wondered, Where was another place, to go? Do we test the police, giving curfew chase, Just to sneak to the convenience store, broke, For nothing more than the thrill? Bundled in hoodies, we survived somehow Those flirtations with damnation, In many a spring night’s chill.
Cave diving in Pennsylvania
Under a blue wave, cold And pressing down. A few familiar Faces, here sinking under water deep. But you must wake up, you sleep, You dream, you’ll drown, here There’s only enough air For a short trip down. Head back, Up through currents away from fading Phantoms now so dark, the sun Commands you, rise and crest. Find yourself alone at-sea, swimming With what strength’s left. And if you cannot find a boat, Well, you’ve got time so, Float.
The clouds look like mountains at the end, On a Northbound highway in late day. Though they fade, decimated by the dark, In obeisance to night, at dusk They dwarf the horizon, unscaled peaks. Chase them, and run short. You get only the glimpse, No speed great enough to arrive. Greed will outrun you, Every time. © SXT 2023
Bill Evans and the ending rain, I go medicated into the wet evening. Pain in these old joints and Pressure from the cooling storm. When lightning ends bats burst forth, Out in the crackling, charged mid-light. Just before night comes and clouds Go black-sky-clear, fade out, Fade out, Of sight. © SXT 2023
Love is the self subjectively Reasoning to keep Moving, through time, Other than by physics alone. In this cold, uncaring, inhospitably Dangerous universe, where, what really rules Neither cares whether you live, Nor die, to love another living thing Romantically, platonically, or Out of some pathological empathy, Is to find the meaning of Life itself. Love expressed as a verb, Frames purpose, reflects a Meaning, outward, then inward, For our short suffering spans.
I spend most of my day, Coffee coaxed in the tall hours Of forced mornings, laboring To pay bills and secure Against, some oncoming disaster. Perhaps cancer, or heart disease, Trying, to sidestep tomorrow’s seize. And so I find too little time to stop, And watch the clouds as they go, When any day like today, could Be the last, the dead drop, And No worry or work will forestall, What comes for me, for all. Who can find the value in The minutes racing away? How can One slow down, take breaks and Walk around, as the days go fast And pause at last, Waiting in the silence, listening to “What does not pass.”
Night, a list
There are secret places, That I go, when I am bound To sleep, for sleep. And in these secret places, Bright are all the faces of the ones I keep, quite deep. Among the living and the dead, Each face lives on inside my head, Flirtation soft within my night’s Vocation, that alive I will not Forget them, no never — From the time I met them, ever, Memory will not let them Rest. These golden lot, Of all, the best.
And every time there was a space, I lit a fire in it’s place and Watched it burn, between the hold Of two fingers, aging, old and oh, I miss those little harms, each Could hurt me just enough that I could cope, avoid the rope, And cleanse my sullen mood with smoke, As hands with soap. © SXT 2023