staring at nothing so much as the Void
ley lines connect me to all the pasts lived in this place
invaded by artists and actors, poets and musicians
so long ago that even the rednecks are nuanced

i petition the muses but they seem to be hiding
making merry on their own in Inspiration Heaven
feeding each other my best lines
i gape and gawk mouth open like a baby bird
hungry for pre-masticated explosions of Light
crashing down from the highest
the very highest of peaks and deeps
the inner writings of electric juicy syllables
swelling orgiastic tumescent heartsongs
agonist meters drumming from the farthest edges of identity
the songs sung by the winds Between the stars
the essence of Light on the first days of its endless journey

the muses moved to New Jersey
(or maybe it was Iowa)
blocked out the sky
tell me i am beloved from so far away
not used to the distance, the cold, the words
don’t flow
locked in subterranean caverns or frozen
where that high consciousness has been enwalled

where are the new graves?
the stories in stone that will no longer be told
ash the new metaphor for humanity
our stories once graven deep in monument
now scattered in the wind
where will the legends go?

i want to be this skin overlaid on your bones
so close the flesh burning
you have no excuse; there is no one who knows or understands
i followed you into the darkest corridors
the foulest underground chasms
reeking of charnel and unknown crawling things  
the patina of ancient ivory, the bones and all essence long gone
it's impossible to know who loved
or why 

i sit in silence among the Old Ones
once laughing, working, playing, and loving
as if they could open their eyes, unconsumed
undigested
new on the earth
and tell me all the forgotten tales

but the Teachers have been laid off
sent from the boneyard into oblivion

the muses have moved to New Jersey
(or maybe it was Kansas)
and i am staring at nothing so much as the Void