PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

far away dunes

pale grizzling winds

giving fury to a down pour

that sings ominously

to the audience

of deaf rocks before me

jaggedly strewn about

by time in careless abandonment

like some interrupted hop scotch game

hastily forgotten by some

mysterious great beings of the past

staring out

scarred light lamps linger

off in the desolate vacuum

of a near by degraded boom town

my earlier good spirits lay strangled

and penniless

as the eyes and elbows of my swiftly

evaporating bravado

joyously feast on my ever steadily rising

panic

and prod me to coax that last stubborn lug nut

into submission to my will

as jerking fingers of fear threaten to revolt

and foul angry language flies forth

guttural and unchecked

from a set of tightly clenched whitened lips

Nevada

even the name sounds eerie and for boding

to my current state of unease

alas

success

wounded tire off

and the spare

savior of my misfortune on

edgy yet thankfully victorious

I heave the corpse of Jack Crowbar

into the abyss of the trunk

and deposit myself post haste

and with very little grace

behind the wheel of my horseless carriage

zipping my way into the arms of the so welcoming

open road sacrificing wounded tire

and every intimidated moment of my last hour's memory

to the demonic alter of the darkness, heat and rain

fast now fading in my blessedly watchful rear view

mirrors

with humor slowly rebounding

I thought to my shaken but not stirred self

Stephen King and Clive Barker could do some of their

best writing back there

that is

only if they could stop shaking long enough

to hold a pen..................

(written Aug.25, 2002 9pm)