Nest in a Tree

late afternoon torrential heat.

furnace car engine combusting.

deciphering some meaning from this

is like hoping for a bolder to move by itself.

200 road miles later

pausing inside a wooded park

to consider, piece together homeward mixtures

only to find angry birds screeching down at me.

strangely, earth's vast openness does not excite,

this constant movement derives no meaning,

instead, fake trivial distractions exhaust the time.

yet stubbornness pushes the footpetal ahead

sheparding a heart brokebrick and desireless,

a soul void of excitement for this journey,

void of that familiar inner sweat

the prankster road often has conjured.

today these bones are saturated

heart discharging misery,

I see a weary face in a mirror

a comatose stranger stares back at me,

some clueless passenger hitchhiking just another empty ramble .

once spirit was nothing more than

effortless automatic breaths,

now punch-drunk,

blinded by endless possibilities

fostering dreams without recognition,

an unglued life story

where paths of diversion appeal

backpedaling away from those lustrated rains,

pretending excuses to reelectrify my existence

when lost somewhere inside I know

life connections already hum with sparks and open doors,

that same life I question today,

that I would gladly take back

after these changes finally solidify and vanish.

good to remember

this play is a game of chance,

where players compete against the dealer,

and the dealer happens to be me.

1975

Safford, AZ