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400 conejos
chill howls
slit needles
from firs
and steer whimsy puffs
to shade the moon
like accordion blinds
summer's last
dying gasps
just below the treeline
snippity
snap dragon
spits sparks
in the dark
doesn't threaten me
but don't want to be
run down by a grizzly
or chased by a moose
just want to be
here with Groot
and 400 Conejos*
you know
all those stone circles in Scotland
were fire rings for Giants
who sat there
pondering
their existence
like me, tonight
I was probably there
I just don't remember
but
I don't remember a lot of things
like what did I do to
be a free man who
feels least lonely
when he's all alone
I believe it has to do with
my twin flame
in an epoch romance
that rattled the cosmos
split trillions of atoms
and still
reverberates
look up above at
that upside down jewelry case
luxurious black velvet
betwixt all that twinkle-twinkles
it's all so vivid now
I live forever...
I could reach up
into that black glass
grab a diamond choker
and collar Venus
were I so inclined
(subjunctive case
if I "were"
not if I "was"
speaking proper
sounds so fuddy-duddy
yeah... I know)
fuddy-duddy me
I probably did
ya know...
campfire smoke and
400 Conejos
pair so well
dragon is growing soft
and blurry
his orange pot belly
slowly snoring
hissing
steamy streams
stings my tears
to feel
my life
yearning for life
I just want to be here
my back on this dirt
my head on this rock
with Groot
grizzly
moose
400 Conejos and
heaven staring down
glowing red dragon rolls over
spewing glitter
like exclamation marks
I hear you
but do I listen
Groot...
grizzly...
moose...
400 Conejos...
do you
do you...
listen to me
ok then...
Copyright ©
Steven Young
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