the dark before dawn
looking at stars crossed by chem trails
I rode yesterday
for the first time since the accident
the air was full of February
windsickles
snapping off of me
and regrowing inside my jacket
I am trying to cloak my life in a shroud
of fog but I keep getting dragged into
somebody else’s circus
it is all about urgency
I am always under its spell
to get to where there is none
the path without foot prints
and scuff marks
origin stories create their own genre
by word of mouth
I can feel my resistence plowing a mountain
of rubble in front of me
I will go underground
at least I have a general plan
*
(for James Eaise)