Dedicated to Lake Charles, Louisiana.
Not to wallow in the ashes chained to a Phoenix.
A future reborn sings louder than words.
Not to sing in the distance of bayous reclaimed
Perhaps too much get to
Outweighs not enough given.
A chained mask crackles.
Past portraits swoon.
Yet these words get to sit here
Beside a king fisherman’s desk.
Huey P Long
And yes I get to take the tour.
And yes I get to wash my own hands with soap
In a clean sink.
Cicadas listen one Guthrie night
Alone and surrounded.
You who continually bombard a why to life.
You who question the resources of this life.
Executed standards equal diddle de squat.
Beside this typewriter a mirage of accomplishments
Greater than anything this jester can image and achieve.
Nestled in visions energy
I sway to the bewilderment of dreams.
And in the gift to read
we live sleepless
To bathe at a rivers edge
Raged in moonlight.
Armed in laughter
Yellow skies grows brighter tonight.
This punk on a mission consumes
A borrowed pen and paper.
To know the weight of a bullet
Before ever pulling the trigger.
Pelicans protect bathed in our uncertainty.
Not a flag in sight we enter stunned.
To the promise bamboo is rehab.
To build a duck stand.
Freezing drizzle on our eyelids
a search for squirrel rabbit
demented as these wild boars.
Fishin” till our fingers bleed.
Awake extinguished in Chicory.
On a Country Roads destination.
And 24/7 grits at Louie’s Café
An end game reward.
Finding a treasure of mushrooms
mid-December you say
to dance giddy all night
Bouncing with the Bayou on Chimes Street.
To swim in a dawn rippled in sunshine.
To hang wailed from a bridge there sails papa.
To beg borrow and steal to create the next line unwritten
No flags are in sight we laugh consumed
Inside the bewilderment of dreams.
Confederate Jasmine umbrellas
Scent flies perfumed on dragon flies wing.
The eagles are eatin all me walnutz!
They are squirrels sir and local pecans.
I always pay the ferryman an extra dime, you fiend.
We double back in ice cubes.
To wave across this ocean of a river
Where ripples mimic bayous seem in the glow of whispers.
Mighty commerce communes with his or her
or better still unites in this journey, yall.
Sliced on a swampscape back drop
A visual exit to mankind brews.
To wish nothing less channeled
I smoke outside.
Stolen by memory
I can never remember your name.
Accepted to be merry at Passover
In this Past Times lunch break.
Accepted Catholic given Baptized
Swaddled in gypsy blood.
To work traffic cop duty at LSU
Loaded directing Mississippi
fly off their rockers.
To slip on a cold one
Six am sharp.
To honor broken toes lost
Slicing this frozen cane
To fall from Grace
Backwards into heaven
And yes there is a song
Many in fact yet to be sung
And there is a song
And yes there is a place
To heal time and space
And yes this song echoes