precise on the pavement with chalk outlines of my neighbors scattering its physique,
i stapled my dreams to a chainsaw kite that cut threw the logs and limbs of my trees; who themselves hung over the ground and amongst the steeples and air traffic control towers of my street.
Though I had never been outside before I had felt tonight was the one where I should be.
And maybe as beautiful as it was,I had only four requests for the world and three were to be in Rome by this evening;alas,though,i won.
and I waste in this grave Ive dug my lonesome,
with bad words and pharmicudical love songs,
Constantley stumbling around questioning for the best pint in travis county.
I sat down at the corner of my street,
so far from home,
but so close to where I once knew I thought I should have believed where I needed to be,
so here I am,
comfortable and still wishing
I was in naples,or pompay...anywhere close to knowledge,but truly not understanding how to learn,
but with a full grasp of the road..
a question arose
Was I nomad who wished not to be known?
only by a few but by the unknown,
and by the unknown I mean one,
and by the one I mean a symphony of sight smells and senses,relishing and tickling my inner joy,be not just a rose petal at my window but the door to opening my world,
the roots to my tree,which Ive chopped down to build rafts to the sea,
only to get to home,which has been here all along