on tour, gone to the mountain, raising the roof,
keeping time w/ the music of the spheres;
down that old, ecstatic, out-of-the Way-
honky tonk highway,
a star blazing brighter
in the mystery of the night
in the heart of the desert.
***
(Usury is dead, not God.
There're no bloodied, dancing bears
in the three-ring circus.
There're no circuses.
There's only bread.
There's no organ grinder's cowed...
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