why--the long hard journey

nice smooth calves,
ass bottom---
bottled gas whiskey,
i would ask for a dance
but, my task is tricky.

goldie locks her door
is jammed, she whores
inside where warmth
cools the smoothature
of two slender thighs.

mountains, like a high
horse come from behind,
Riding Thunder as a poet
calls his mother.

ask but never trust
the question Why
the lust for big surprise---
blinded weather eyes
storm brows wonder
till all her virtue dies
in the down turn of
her assets and market shares,
no secret precious liquid
that comes in all colors,
poured down the stairs,
but only brown to the
standard i---
            
             and brown
is not a color much
preferred but endured
nonetheless, for there
still remains that bastard
question wondering
why? so let us try once.
then we can sire runts
by sighs and grunts
in the color palette
of the mainstream.

live the ride with me
of my wild night mare
now---call her a dream
of air tomorrow.
            feel no sorrow,
            but have a care---
your voice is crucial,
my point is fair. when i come
knocking do not ask
who is there, just
be open and i will
not stay long or stare.

share the journey road
bumping hard, we can
take along time, back
in the car. sit on the hood,
pick out a star, kiss time
on the neck and connect
the dots with the first
word or sign that comes
to our mind.

            break bread
in the dawn, morning eggs
and potatoes mashed with
spice we find in the dew.
you want to come with me,
do you? set out then silly,
forest trails abound, take
my hand, arm my arm---
i will sit down
with my gun arm bare, a
shawl on your shoulder
falling in love of you
rolling over and over.

           and when the
sun shows us the kodiak's
misty coat, we will sit
still without fear and
not be eaten but be natural
as fruit, all the same for
the bear is a fisherman
and we are his mermaids
calling the salmon to his
jaw, though they hear
in our song promise that
the road is short to the place
of where they can spawn
             unfairly
             quite naturally
             oh deftly they
row and row against the steady
trickle of mountain snow
come as a pebbled stream
where each stone has
become perfect in the
cold grip of the water
each stone cleans.
            salmon bellies
scraping them all day.
moose hooves take them,
each feels pain, as the
moose hobbles away, and
the kodiak pursues his game.

we shall be two as one
with no name. we shall
enjoy the sun, entranced
by all from ice cold spring
to hot springs fire call---
            and none,
            believe me honey,
            none will know
            our name.

and then our angels descend.