Brother In The Wind

Afternoon at the table

out there the clouds sit grey

and the homeless stay lean

the end of summer

the end of high noon

the end of heat and sweat

and chlorine nose

the short autumn closes in

on the mountain

white noise TV

brain rotting in the fucking

vacuum of this town

keep the heart heavy, though

keep the heart heavy and

your next move close

any town or or city or place

that constantly reminds you

of your own death is a fucking

bad place to be

sitting here thinking about

the water, the coasts, even

the lesser weight of other

deserts

thinking about old love

gone or moved on

thinking about Italy

thinking about the blood orange moon

over the fields of South Dakota

somewhere on a road there

out in that space

lost but freed from all the bullshit

all the stress

all the subterfuge and sacrifice and

sallow skin from fallow thoughts

from fear

we put ourselves where we do

kill the TV

blast High on Fire and tap shuffle

catch up on what you know

the metal thatʼs missing

let it bleed into Miles Davis

kill the tech and set the needle

carefully onto

Seven Steps To Heaven

pour the shot

itʼs just a Wednesday

itʼs just a page thatʼs despised

you over a long break

but they're everything

refracted and reflected

the sadness of a white moon

saxophone

the heart of a hungry cat

with nowhere and nobody

while the day becomes the page

like it used to be

like itʼs supposed to be

all the lost wind of you

all the lost feeling

the numbness that seeps in

being pushed back

the worries for nothing

let the record turn and

ignore the inner voices

pitted against you

let them wait

the blood inside you

only wants to survive

caustically or creatively

and it will end in either.

and to forget the words

that save you will

end you that way

to forget the blood orange

moon you've fought to

protect and preserve

to let the grey days

and sentences slip through

the cracks of false busyness

through tiny screens

and mass disconnection

will end you that way

all the disgraces that quietly

build upon the heart

the mind

swimming in your blood

reaching for shores

lost and forgotten

under a sun that burns

away the film of such

disgusting things

the long and short works

of yours

the long and short

nights and days

without escape or purpose

destroy this

while out there the clouds

sit grey

and the homeless

stay lean

you know where you belong

where itʼs always been

waiting for you

afternoon at the table

flip the album

and set it down on

Side 2

let the garbage wait

for someone else

in all the grey areas

in here you

have mountains

to burn.