Down Here On The Ground

That dose inflicted ,unconscious,/dreary sight of your timeworn hostage/down the rivers and roads, this mortal path/and most vainly,/ashes build in the ashtray/subtle reflex, living ,breathing,/holding breath in /till spotting comets past the ether./Give me a signal, before your man goes astray,/you can pitch around /those well known objects/  you have words for./Could it be the way you found out/ you’re fond of the smell /of rosewood and ashes?/Aching with a sigh of relief,/over cliffs in the azure,/I could find nothing more  than the midnight choir’s call to empire./I bent over,/bared my brains to heaven,/salvaged clues in a barrel: but this crooked path leads/back to the straight and narrow;/trail of your footprints/your empty caches of the heart/disowned right where you found them.

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