chasing the shadow of a dream

the poet is
a pauper
a prophet
a mad man
a child

chasing the shadow
of a dream
with the type of solitude
that can be found
waking in the night
to the unfamiliar surroundings
of your own naked flesh
alone in silenced darkness

in ditches
on the side of the road
railroad tracks
smokestacks
the cat is black
sedona
gallup
peublo
prisons
bibles

first kisses
and kisses
that feel like
first kisses

stays
where it's dirty
it's dark
it's desperate
it's drunk

it stays
in cellophane wrapped
happiness
inside cages
adorned with
jewels

it stays
where money is needed
but is not coming
where money comes easy
when love is what's
needed

it stays
where love is mutually sacrificed
for reasons no longer
known
where children
learn to live without
reason
alone

a solitude
that can be found
among lovers
their young bodies
intertwined
in the wilderness

among a love
that can keep
anyone young

it's also found
in the forest

it's also found
in you

the poet
stares out his window
in early afternoon
and suck on bottles of wine
as it they were cigarettes
that exuded morphine
and tries to shake
the image of his father's face
the day that he died
but instead
drives deeper into the wound
until the wounds become real
and bleed onto the page

"how does it feel
to be on your own
like a complete unknown
just like a rolling stone?"

the radio moans
thru static
and it's the sound of
heartbreak

and all of a sudden
everyone of your bones
has been fractured
and you recall
being five years old

you hide behind curtains
trying to bring meaning
to the stale meaninglessness
that is language

cry upon photographs
in the absence of unfettered memory
and the absence of touch

trying to reach
an impossible distance
that can only be bridged upon death

well maybe it does
and maybe it don't
maybe it will
maybe it won't

the type of mystery
that only fools and saints
can remark upon with any certainty
and you are no longer
either one of those

although
yes
you are
naked

in darkness