. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Wanderlust


I cut my teeth on wanderlust,
fuss at dawn
with duck calls and a blunderbuss beneath the horse leather under us,
trust the truck engine
and hope the pistons keep spinning despite the water rust,
tough is a thousand mosquito bites
and bull moose musk,
fill 'er up - octane and whiskey and bath tub suds,
have her wash the dirt
from the parts that hurt 'cause best buds scrub for love,
loud lake trout hitting flies from above,
naked in the cold shallows
but her lips feel as soft as the feathers of a dove,
all the million thoughts you think of,
all the brilliant children
who will never know life beyond being an urban citizen,
crimson cinnamon blood
floods my veins and stains the rocks in constellations of red,
led to the waterfall by the call of a higher power instead,
cower before the lord, you pale
earthly ape, whose tower is the mountain,
whose voice is the ceaseless pounding
of endless gallons of a clear forest stream,
the rough rocks of the world redeemed,
I cut my teeth on wanderlust
and bathe my bones in waters some only ever know in dreams.

2016 - TA