Parchment meadow dribbled with goldenrod cornflower tusks
Needles through the tongue and dumb debs littering boardwalks
Beaches of western profit on bone-beds of nail-flattery balloons
Many meridians and too-much date for your linear discovery
There you go as always loitering on a moving page estoppel
Hoping a distraction or easy answer will carry you through
I'm here to tell you it will never happen--actually it may
But the lack of consequence and your obsolescence
Leaves your tongue the map of history and irreverence
Rapture of pocked relevance corresponding to back pain
Geronimo at our mellow barbecue in Georgia with Chechens
On a moderately cold mountain awaiting the first snow in ages
And the addition of an angry young man with no luggage or toes
Only a note from his mother who left him at the altar in Attica cells
Zero hour and hopeful scourge the remaining pestilence of German Kurds
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