dead star blues

it echoes down from mountains and up from canyons

rumbling bass like far off thunder

moons descending beyond the plateau

the reverberation across the cracked earth

riverbed gone wanting for moisture

like purple skies never crushed their enemies

and i'm the lone silhouette beneath retreating light

the subtle reminder, loss

centuries ago it knew me

     all too well

he and i, we strode across rotting plains

between thin, empty trees

until today became yesterday before i knew it

before i could react

and how was i supposed to know

that my minute and a half was worth a year in the life of?

Jesus Christ, he played symphonies on them all

hated to be the kind of n***a to smoke and run

but he ran

Lord, how he ran

it must be a generational thing

the lapse caused collapses for most the west end

my stolen muse swapped out ambition for addictions

hotwired the brainwaves and said, "Best of luck, son."

in an old shoe box it lies beneath dry soil

twelve steps beyond the broke fence it's buried

in a shallow grave off a gravel road

lies my lethargic pulse, faint and with raggae overtones

still the world is standing room only

all fire doors propped open with ash cans

jealous of the clouds, their nowhere-to-be gait

their "whatever" attitude caravans overhead

my elegy is sung in streams that carry to the Mississippi

in deep, broad voices it rings

carries through tiny towns of nobody

my impulse left limited to daydreams

that my genie would get back to work

and 'ol HPT, he said to me

that's the soul, man; that's the soul

it's how you take it and strum it

how you play it and gut it

and in the end it's all that you carry

like a shower of kisses and girl skin

it's how you know

and react to each daybreak that kicks you awake