1491

I missed the couch

spoke Spanish to the

floorboards

and found

it wasn’t really fly fishing

in Cape Cod,

but a hill of dirt

somewhere east of Austin.

The groundskeeper

told me it was

strange

and made a point

to draw on me

with a blunt marker.

I’m not useful now.

Like me,

like bookstores in Maine,

these things lie.

I wanted home.

Sleep came in

sighs and waves

signs and codes.

That isn’t new.

Resurrection Pentecostal

thoughts

- desire desire desire desire.

With my eyes closed

everything looks like

everything and the things

between

everything….

…

With my eyes closed

I sold.

My pride and arms

to rock and roll.

What a thing to know

the only discovery left

is hidden away from me

- it’s not right.

It’s not right.

My reins tighten.