Wakefield Mine Jam Session

desolate

free falling

white rain

licks this desert land clean,

tenderly dripping

scattering sand flakes,

wind

unrelenting, saturating ajo mountains,

stoking up for

another teeming jam session

meantime, resting naked

buried in this southwest garden, hot mince pies

bake in cookhouse stove

surrounded by cityboys drinking cowboy coffee,

wailing on about self-weirdness,

riding through now ancient

Eastcoast blizzards and hurricanes

those boys drumm through

rappy scattered

disembodied stories

laid down in unintentional layers,

each member of the trio

keepin the biorhythms goin,

all the while climbin onto this rhythm train

spawnin even more lucid ideas,

divvyed up equally

aboard a frozen Sunday morning breakfast floor

Huachuca Mts

Wakefield Mine

December, 1973