The
oncoming traffic parading and as I scanned my view
To
the For Sale by Owner sign with my phone number
The
Sharpie recognized the Long December as January
Three
trucks passed and I pulled out listening to Andre Williams on my stereo
Sometimes
one has to let go of winter’s clutch into the cold and not burn so much
Other
than the tinder that belongs in the fire, cheers to the burn and then the learn
I
remember rock n’roll radio and all the times you know
The
two a.m. talks one has to himself and the pillow
The
midnight whispering on the curtains blocks out the certainty
That
morning is coming whether one likes the sun, these things will be undone
Sure
as time entwined with the choice of lines one is willing to cross
To
bring back the sentiment lost about the backwoods streets
Of
rural nomenclature and CAFO-lot meat bought and sold
Singing
the envelope folds into old lines, written before the digital-rush times
Send
the feelings off like firecrackers, remembering the walk-a-ways
Staying
in the corn fields and leading a revolution with the mice
Raise
a sword and stare down the pikes of opposing armies
In
the guts of confident men, no matter the limbs, I will begin again
Breathe
out this ghost in my chest, inhale the clearing to digest
Tomorrow
with a face, the haze and the portrait is beginning to bear a taste
The
gray is a blue is a green and the sand in the glass is in between
What
was and what is and I will begin again
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