solitude, you’ve become
my sacrament, as all
is gathered up along the way,
the days turn into winks
what do I really even need
perched on Lucia’s back
up here near the dead red tail
dropping plops off the top of rocks
December now, don’t need those socks,
watch the clouds roll in
like ghostships raiding visibility
all is grey quiet sparkling
I can feel it on my feet
a rock slide slaps
a single traveler walks by
miles from anything
says nothing
down there the high tide of the pacific
can be made out amplified by the canyon
riding gusts to reach me
a week of rain, wash away
any metastowaway
don’t know if it’s thunder or wind
nothing to say
said this anyway
I’ve been waking up to views
men go into debt for
next to nothing
I’ve been fitting
in the spaces in-between
you’d never even know
I was there
letting go of the old world
unattainable dream fad
melding with the moment
I am reset by the wind
enveloped by the sky
no reason not to
no anchors tied to

in the dark settled placidity
that wades before dawn
little lightning bolts
reach out to the fireflies
thru the glass

9 thoughts on “Nacamiento-ferguson

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