A poem, partially inspired by an interchange between a friend and I during a shopping expedition.
DAY SEVENTY-NINE (2015-6-26)
SUCH MANNER OF MEN AND GOODS
A return to this barren, rainy lot of vehicles is a blessing.
The sweet effuse of warm asphalt, opening before the sky's offering:
the greatest smell, and verily, to breathe in deep, know this sacrality,
as it is your bond, the heaviest, most brutal taste
and as lines marked before you, it would have you know that distinction clearly
before the hot womb of metal and the sweet, deathlike arms of slumber call:
the wolfs keen, the voluptuous fullness of night, the round breasts of moon and waiting sun
as teats obscured by the glamour of thunder and clouds, their hopes tenting the sky.